


From the Ashes

by Solange956



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Also spoilers for everything, And all the angst that comes with that, Future Relationships TBD - Freeform, He has an excuse this time though, Here's hoping that becomes a thing, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, Jon Snow as inquisitor, Jon Snow-centric, Modern Westerosi Man in Thedas, Past Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Past Jon Snow/Ygritte, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, R Plus L Equals J, Tags to be added, as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solange956/pseuds/Solange956
Summary: Jon Snow travels North of the Wall after the events in King's Landing, but there is another world that needs his help. Thrown into chaos, holding the key to Thedas' salvation in his hand, Jon Snow must learn quickly if he hopes to survive.For better or worse, whatever Jon Snow was before, he is now part of the inquisition.Updates when the time is right.





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this story for a little while now, and I thought I would post the beginning just to get started. I have the Prologue mostly finished, and I'm working on the Hinterlands chapter at the moment. I want to make the story really detailed and accurate not only to Jon Snow's story, but to the Dragon Age:Inquisition story too. I'd really like to include all the choices Jon would most likely make in the story.
> 
> So please enjoy! Comment and tell me what you liked, what you didn't, and what you want to see. This is a passion project of mine, and I'd like to do it justice.

Jon hadn't felt such a bone deep ache since the end of the Long Night. An ache that left him battered and stretched thin. Next, he felt the unforgiving weight of metal chains on him, and then the familiar feel of cold, damp ground that only a dungeon could provide.

‘Am I back in King’s Landing?’ was the only thought running through his head. It was too warm to be anything north of the neck, and he didn’t feel the heavy weight of his cloak over his shoulders, just familiar leathers.

His eye lids felt heavy, but he forced them open, slowly turning his head to see that his assumption was correct. And not. It was a dungeon, that much was certain, but not one that Jon had seen before. The architecture was... off somehow as well as the color of the stone. Jon shifted himself upward with a painful care, but a bright flare of pain shot through his right hand, and he crashed back down to the floor. In the distance, he thought he heard a man’s voice, soft and barely audible in a language Jon had never heard before. A gentle wave of warmth washed over him and-

He must have passed out. Before he knew what was happening, flashes of some terrifying nightmare flickered in his mind’s eye. In the dream, Jon struggled to climb a dark and dusty mountainside as an ominous green mist swirled about him. He heard an unearthly screech behind him, but he didn’t dare look. The scuttling of legs made him think it was white walkers riding the dreaded ice spiders.

He made it to a rough, stone staircase that was carved into the mountain and looked ahead to see a glowing figure he hadn’t noticed before. It seemed to be waiting for him at the top. The figure, a woman perhaps, reached out to him. A moment after that, he caught sight of a group of soldiers, the shock on their faces surely matching his. Despite the unease he felt at not being able to recognize their colors and sigils, a part of him was relieved. After all, Jon would always take his chances with the living over the dead, and he felt himself fade away again into darkness.

When he woke up next, he was miraculously kneeling, still chained, but feeling leagues better than the first time he had regained consciousness. Then he noticed the stiff and wary guards staring at him with fear in their eyes, pointing their swords at him from a distance.

“…what?” Jon asked softly, looking from the men to his shackled wrists. His hands were still in black leather gloves, and as he thought, he was still dressed in the black leathers of the Night’s Watch.

Before he could say anything to the men, the door opened with a bang loud enough to startle him. Jon stared guilelessly up at two women, as different as night and day, and both dressed differently from what he was used to. Ser Brienne or his sister, Arya, being the exceptions. Jon tucked that thought away before it could any further, the painful reminder of his sister wouldn’t help him here.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you,” said the woman clad in armor.

Her inky black hair was cropped short and un-styled except for a single braid that crowned her head. A scar marred her sneering face which was otherwise striking and handsome. The armor and jerkin she wore was fitted, well made, and clearly saw regular use. He could not identify the symbol painted upon it however, he had never seen anything like the blazing eye she wore with pride. The other woman was clad in a light grey hooded robe, but clearly wore chainmail underneath. She stuck to the shadows, letting her companion take the fore.

“Well? Answer me,” the woman demanded.

“…What?” Jon asked, his voice rough from disuse.

“Explain!” she demanded, grabbing his wrist and holding up the hand that had pained him in his strange dream.

For the first time he noticed the odd, eerie green glow that was set unnaturally into his palm. He couldn’t help but stare at it, dumbfounded and wondering if he was _still_ dreaming.

“I can’t,” he finally croaked after a moment, staring at his hand and then at the woman who then dropped it in disgust.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” she asked, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I can’t,” Jon said again. “I don’t know where I am, or what that is or how it got there, I swear it.”

The woman held up her hand and moved as if to strike him, but the other woman, fair and with a sweeter face, grabbed her wrist before the blow could hit. Jon flinched away despite himself.

“We need him, Cassandra,” the other woman said, letting go of her companion who sneered in disgust at the two of them instead of replying.

Jon wondered at their strange accents. Neither of them sounded Westerosi nor did they sound like any of the men and women from Essos he had met. It seemed he would discover nothing about his location from the way these women dressed or spoke.

“So what happens now?” Jon asked, looking from Cassandra to the softer woman standing in front of him.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked in turn, taking over the interrogation from her companion. “How this began?”

“No,” Jon told them truthfully, unsure of what they thought had begun and how he was involved. “I was travelling north of the Wall. And then I was here. I remember flashes of… something. But to tell the truth, I think it more a nightmare. I was running from… something terrible. And then…there was a woman? I think?”

“A woman?” she asked, though the manner she said it in felt almost mocking.

“She reached out to me,” Jon told them. “And then…”

Jon couldn’t recall. He wasn’t sure if the soldiers he saw came after that or if he was mixing events up in his mind. He didn’t even know if what he was experiencing _now_ was real. These two women with their strange uniforms, for he noticed the other woman wore the same symbol, and their strange accents were surely beyond his own ability to imagine, but he didn’t know what might have brought him to such a strange place when he was supposed to be north of the Wall with the rest of the Free Folk.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” said the first woman, finally naming her companion. “I will take him to the rift.”

Leliana nodded and left the room.

“What _did_ happen?” Jon asked. “Where am I? And who are you people?”

Cassandra leveled him with a severe look, but it was softer than the glares she had given him before.

“To answer your first question,” she said. “It would be easier to show you.”

She pulled at his chains to drag him to his feet, and Jon settled onto them unsteadily, before she unlocked the manacles from his wrists and replaced them promptly with some rope.

“As for your other questions, it disturbs me that you either do not know or pretend not to.”

“I’m not lying,” Jon said with some heat as she led him to the door, feeling indignation that this stranger thought he was lying for no reason.

“We shall see,” she said shortly.

They crossed the door’s threshold, and Jon blinked blindly into the light before they focused on the gaping green hole in the sky.

“What…” Jon said, staring slack-jawed and wide-eyed at the sight

“We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave,” Cassandra explained.

“I- demons?” Jon questioned, not able to understand a word of what he was hearing. It was too outlandish. Demons, rifts, and conclaves he’d never heard of in a land he did not know.

“Well, yes,” she said, looking baffled by his confusion. “And unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

At those words, the breach did exactly that, suddenly pulsing and expanding across the sky. The bright light on his hand flared and spread in time with it, and Jon dropped to the ground, the unbearable pain returning. After a moment, it stopped, but he stayed kneeling as he clutched his hand.

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you,” Cassandra told him, with some sympathy Jon thought. “It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.”

“… Do I really have a choice?” Jon asked with a smile that was more grimace.

“None of us have a choice,” she said, her lips twisted in displeasure at his answer, but Jon couldn’t bring himself to care why.

She pulled him to his feet and pushed him forward toward the path leading to the breach. Walking through the crowd of people, Jon couldn’t help but notice the dark looks directed toward him.

“They have decided your guilt,” Cassandra told him as she gazed upon the hostile faces. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

Jon couldn’t meet the eyes of any of the people scowling at him. Not for the first time in his life, he cursed his ill luck at finding himself in the position of pariah. It seemed he had a special talent for it as he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he hadn’t attracted one enemy or another simply by existing. Lady Stark, Theon, Alister Thorne, Craster, Orell, the list went on and on.

He seemed to have been born under a cursed star and now he found himself in the middle of a crisis about which he knew nothing in a land he knew even less, but it seemed he was to blame for all of their problems.

The lady and Jon made it to a gate that opened once the soldiers caught sight of them.

“We lash out, like the sky,” she continued. “But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed.”

Cassandra turned around, unsheathing a dagger, and Jon eyed her warily. He let out a small breath, ignoring the look she shot him when she grabbed his bound wrists.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more,” she told him.

“I would ask for no more,” Jon told her solemnly with some relief, glad that she had decided to afford him the small trust of allowing him to walk with his hands untied.

She gave him an approving look, her face softening the slightest from the solid stone it had been carved from before, and then she cut the ropes binding his hands together.

“Come. It is not far,” she said, leading him forward.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he followed her, rubbing at his wrists with his gloved hands.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach,” she replied before marching forward.

For the first time, Jon noticed they were on a small stone bridge, built well and yet still nothing like he’d seen before in Westeros. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen similar bridges before, but it was undeniably foreign from the North or the limited parts of Westeros he’d seen.

Jon rubbed his wrists a little harder to get the feeling back into them, thanking the old gods that wherever he’d ended up, the weather outside was mild enough to get by without his heavy fur cloak. Although he could only imagine where his beloved Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, could be. He felt almost naked without it at his side. Or without Ghost.

Jon frowned deeply, slowly following the woman past cases of supplies, soldiers crowded around some holy man, rows of the dead, and men who were cowering and sobbing up against the wall. He stared for a moment before dragging his eyes away and turning his thoughts to more pressing matters in front of him.

All he could remember from before all this was leaving Castle Black with Tormund, Ghost, and the Free Folk to travel north. And if Jon was honest with himself, he had had no plans of returning south, something the remnants of his sworn brothers had clearly known and not judged him. Especially considering everything that had…happened in King’s Landing.

Jon swallowed and forced himself back to the present, looking back to Cassandra as she stood imperiously before the next stone gate.

“Open the gate! We are headed into the valley!”

The soldiers hastened to comply and soon the doors were creaking loudly open for them.

His companion led him to the left, past a number of spiked barricades and soldiers. As they kept moving, the barricades they passed were burning and some were surrounded by corpses. One soldier ran past them screaming about the end of the world.

Jon couldn’t help but stare, dumbfounded that he had found himself flung back into chaos. Hadn’t he endured enough? How much more did he need to bleed for his sins?

‘Perhaps it will never end,’ Jon thought morosely as he gazed upon the fire and death. ‘Cursed is the kinslayer, the queenslayer, and those who betray the ones they love.’

Jon looked up at the sky and caught a good look at the pulsing green light tearing its way through the sky for the first time. It was terrifying, shooting green masses from its center. They fell from the sky and exploded in a rain of rock and fire once they hit the ground, the echoes of the landing crackled in the air like a clap of thunder in a summer storm.

Jon fell to his knees, the pain shooting from his hand up through to his arm, pulsing worse than before and in time with the spread of the Breach across the sky. Unlike the times previous, the lady didn’t hesitate to help him to his feet.

“The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face,” she said softly.

“Demons… rifts…,” Jon repeated after her, shaking his head in disbelief, squinting up in horror at the Breach. “How did I even survive whatever caused that?”

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes… I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

Cassandra led him forward again, past the destruction, the corpses, and the horrors falling from the wound in the sky. They came upon a second bridge quickly enough and made to cross this one as well. However, before they could, one of the flares of green light hit the bridge, the ground breaking and crumbling away beneath them. Jon felt a sick swoop in his stomach, the panic one feels when solid ground falls away.

Thankfully, the drop was shorter than either of them expected and both tumbled onto the frozen river below. Jon climbed to his feet, knees shaking and very much aware of how much abuse they had taken in the last hour alone. Before he could truly recover, the Breach pulsed again, and Jon felt a sympathetic twinge in the mark on his hand.

A flaming green meteor landed in front of them and hit the river a short distance from their location. A green light moved on the ground, the same eerie shade as the Breach and the mark on Jon’s hand. What appeared from the light was like something from a nightmare.

“A demon?” Jon questioned softly, finally understanding.

“Stay behind me!” his companion yelled.

She pulled her shield over her shoulder and unsheathed her sword, immediately charging the creature gliding toward them like a misshapen dark shadow with claws. Before Jon could curse his ill luck for being unarmed, a second nightmare appeared in front of him in another flash of green light.

Jon yelled, scrambling backwards as quickly as he could. A glint of light caught the corner of his eye and to his left he saw a sword sitting on the ground by a broken supply box.

Jon dodged a swipe from the shadow’s claws, grabbed the hilt of the sword, and swung around to face the creature snarling at him. Luckily for him, the creature moved slowly, but Jon watched the claws warily, not wanting to find out if they were as sharp as they looked without having anything stronger than boiled leather protecting him.

He waited for the creature to make a swipe for him, twirling the blade in his hands to get a proper feel for the weapon- cheaply made, but serviceable. When the shadow overextended itself, he struck. A downward slash that managed to catch the creature from the shoulder to its hip. Jon allowed himself a small grin as the thing screeched in shock and pain. He had feared the weapon he held would be unable to harm the beast, but it seemed just as vulnerable as any man.

Jon pressed his advantage, keeping the creature off guard, slashing at the main body of the beast, aiming for the head as much as he could. Before he could blink, the creature let out an unearthly howl and crumpled in on itself, collapsing completely and disappearing into the ground below.

“It’s done,” Jon said to the lady with a nod, breathing heavily with the sword still in his hands.

“Drop your weapon now.”

Jon looked up to see Cassandra advance on him with her sword, a forbidding expression on her face.

“All right…” Jon said calmly as he held out his hand cautiously, moving slowly to drop the sword.

“Wait,” the lady shook her head, looking peeved as she sighed. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”

She sheathed her sword and looked to the path ahead before turning back around to face him.

“I should remember you did not attempt to run,” she told him, with a resigned look on her face.

“Thank you,” Jon told her, nodding at her. He went back to the broken supply box and picked up a battered looking belt and scabbard, sheathed the sword and secured the weapon around his waist.

“You fought well,” she said appraisingly. “But this was your first time encountering a demon, was it not?”

“It was,” Jon admitted. “I’ve fought- well, more than just men. But that- I’ve never seen such a creature before.”

“Those are demons, not creatures,” she said with a small frown, her stare seemed to penetrate his soul, looking for what, Jon didn’t know.

She shook her head and handed him a glass bottle he hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Take this potion. Maker knows what we will face.”

Confused, Jon took the bottle and tucked it into his jacket. Yet another question to be shelved for later.

“Where are all your men?” Jon asked as they continued down the path along the frozen river.

“At the forward camp, or fighting,” she replied. “We are on our own for now.”

The two of them passed more corpses on the way, groups of one or two strewn about the side of the river before they veered off and climbed a small hill. As they reached the crest, two more of the shadows appeared before them in a clearing below.

“There!” Cassandra called. “Watch out!”

She strode with purpose toward the two demons, unsheathing her sword once more.

“If we flank them, we may gain an advantage,” she told him and moved to the demon on the right.

Jon nodded and followed her lead, moving to approach the demon on the left. He used the same strategy as before as there seemed to be little individuality between the creatures. It made the same slow swipe at him, and he took the opportunity to attack, quicker and more confident than before.

Their victory was assured, Jon judged that the lady was just as skilled as himself in combat, if not more so considering her familiarity with their current foe.

This time when they continued nothing need be said. They were battle focused and a glance was communication enough until they reached a set of stairs and a new manner of creature was waiting for them.

“Up on the hill! It attacks from a distance!”

Jon swerved to take the stairs, allowing his companion to take on the shadow. His opponent this time was a ghostly spectre, glowing the same sickly green as the Breach. Jon turned his body, narrowly missing a ball of light the ghost had lobbed in his direction. He ran quickly to his target, watching its arms with caution. He cut across it, surprised once again to feel tension as he cut through the creature, although admittedly it was less than the others he had fought.

Jon cut through it again, twisting the blade back through the creature as quickly as he could manage. Though his blade met less resistance as he attacked, the creature seemed to make up for this weakness with twice the amount of stamina as the shadow monsters he'd fought previously. Jon ducked and swerved a few times to avoid the spells the ghost threw in his direction and it wasn’t long before he managed to land the killing blow.

The ghost crumpled in on itself and disappeared in the same manner as the shadow and before Jon knew it, the lady knight had joined him at the top of the hill. Their enemies appeared one after another, more shadows and ghosts (or Shades and Wraiths, as Jon learned they were called), and their two-man team cut them down quickly and efficiently with no injuries amongst them. Jon felt a deep respect growing for the woman, which Jon was certain she reciprocated, as it was rare to find someone truly competent to watch your back in battle.

After defeating yet another group of demons, Jon didn’t bother sheathing his blade as he caught his breath and he turned to look at his companion. She surveyed the shrieking demons collapsing in on themselves with grim satisfaction before turning to him once more.

“We should continue,” she said to him, nodding toward the steep set of stone stairs before them.

Jon nodded, working on calming his breath as he surveyed the frozen surroundings, the harsh beauty of the landscape only marred by the littering of corpses and burning trees.

“We were never introduced properly, were we? My name is Jon Snow” Jon said, feeling that it was only appropriate after the comradery they had built in the last hour or so.

“Oh,” she said, looking taken aback. “Yes, my apologies, it has been rather hectic as of late. I am Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker of Truth and the Right Hand of the Divine.”

“Well met,” Jon told her, turning toward the stairs, wondering when he’d get a chance to ask what her titles meant.

“… Well met, Jon Snow,” Cassandra said in return with a nod of her head. “You are not what I expected.”

“None of this is what I expected,” Jon said wryly, pointing vaguely at the burning trees and the glowing green mass pulsing ominously above them.

Cassandra let out a dry laugh, before she said, “We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”

“Who’s fighting up there?” Jon asked. “Anyone you know?”

“You’ll see soon,” Cassandra told him as they continued to climb. “We must help them.”

As they reached the summit, Jon looked in horror at the wreckage of another bridge to their right with wagons and supplies burning all around them. To his left, in the short distance between them and the fighting, a copy of the Breach in miniature floating above the worst of the conflict.

‘That must be one of the rifts,’ Jon thought as he stared.

It looked solid and liquid all at once, and yet it must have been as light as air to float as it did. Jon thought wights, Others, dragons, and his own resurrection were the strangest things that he would see or experience, but it seemed some god or another was determined to prove him wrong.

Cassandra led him quickly down into the fight, and they flanked the two Shades that the soldiers were struggling to keep up with. Jon noticed out of the corner of his eye a slim man with a staff shooting bolts of ice at their foes. Another mystery.

Before Jon could breathe a sigh of relief as they defeated the last demon, a voice called to him.

“Quickly, before more come through!”

His wrist was in the air before he knew it, held captive in a deceptively strong grip, and Jon was startled to see a bolt of energy flow from his hand straight into the rift. It was a strange feeling, like tension on a bit of rope that was just about to snap. And then finally it did, Jon’s hand was released by both the strange man and the green light, the rift exploding into nothing like it had never existed in the first place.

“What did you do?” Jon asked, turning his head to the man.

Or perhaps man wasn’t the correct word. Jon curiously noted the curious shape of his ears and wondered if he was a strange sort of human- or something else entirely. Whatever he was, he looked human enough despite the ears. His face was curiously proportioned- high cheekbones, long face, small eyes, pointed chin, and a head that was as smooth and hairless as an egg.

His clothes were rough spun, his green coat the only color he wore, the rest of it being tan or brown. And the man wore no shoes which Jon thought a peculiar preference in this sort of weather. It was significantly warmer than the Wall, but Jon still thought snow and battle wasn’t the best for bare toes.

“I did nothing. The credit is yours,” he said with something of a smile on his lips.

“You mean this,” Jon said, a frown on his lips as he looked down at the strange light embedded into his hand.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake- and it seemed I was correct,” he told him with no small amount of satisfaction.

Jon had the feeling that this was a man who took a great deal of pleasure in being right.

“Meaning it could close the Breach itself,” Cassandra interrupted, coming forward to Jon’s side and looking at him pointedly.

“Possibly,” the other man conceded to Cassandra.

To Jon, he said, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Despite the good cheer it was announced in, Jon felt his face turn stiff and sort of tension running down his spine. ‘No’ he wanted to say, but he didn’t think he had a choice. He never did.

“Good to know!” called a deep and pleasant voice; Jon turned to see a curiously short and stocky man behind them tugging at his gloves.

Jon stared at him curiously, another person that he wasn’t quite sure was human or not, but certainly someone who dressed in style. The man’s fine silver-inlaid shirt was open halfway down his chest despite the cold weather, tied with grey sash. The grey coat he wore looked soft and was lined in blue. Orange hair and a strong face completed his rugged look, but with a noise that looked like it had been broken more than once.

“Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever,” the man said as he approached the group.

"Varric Tethras: Rogue, Storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.”

As he finished his introduction, he turned his head toward Cassandra and gave her a saucy wink and a smile, and Jon couldn’t help but smile as well when he saw the look of utter disgust on her face.

Jon was charmed despite himself. The man was pleasant and the only person he’d met since coming to this strange place who had introduced himself to him at first meeting.

“Well met, Varric Tethras,” Jon said with a nod. “Jon Snow.”

Varric looked pleasantly surprised in turn at the cordial return of his introduction. Perhaps it wasn’t something commonly done in these lands.

“You may reconsider that stance, in time,” the taller man at his side said.

“Aww,” Varric practically cooed. “I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra was quick to say, glaring at the shorter man. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me,” Varric said, his voice softening at the end and he gave her a look that said he knew he was right.

Cassandra grunted in disgust and turned, walking away from them.

“My name is Solas,” the taller man said. “If there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’” Varric corrected.

Jon turned to face Solas directly, wondering if it was this man’s voice he had heard chanting away in his sleep.

“If that’s the case then thank you,” Jon said sincerely.

“Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process,” Solas retorted although not rudely.

Jon had a feeling Solas was also the type of man who simply liked being difficult for the sake of it.

“Cassandra,” Solas addressed the Lady Seeker. “You should know- the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“Understood,” Cassandra acknowledged with a nod. “Then we must get to the forward camp quickly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the party comes together. I borrowed a lot from the video game as far as dialogue goes for the prologue, but the scenes after that start derailing from the set conversations real fast afterward.
> 
> Everyone is in emergency mode at this point, so not too many questions have popped up yet beyond Jon being like, wtf and why me?
> 
> Also- I realized that no one really introduces themselves in this game? Rude, really. Only Varric, Solas, and Josephine do it voluntarily. Which makes sense when you think about it, I guess.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon chooses his path and manages to reach the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jon, he's only barely managing to keep it together this chapter.

_“Understood,” Cassandra acknowledged with a nod. “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”_

Cassandra strode forward as she spoke and Solas moved with her, following from behind, but Jon paused for a moment, trying to piece everything together about Mages, the Breach, and Solas. It was frustrating, like trying to complete a puzzle in the dark with one hand tied behind your back. This place he had found himself in wasn’t completely foreign, but half the time when anyone spoke, it was as if they were speaking a different language completely. 

Varric came up beside him and shrugged.

“Well, Bianca’s excited,” Varric said with a grin, gesturing to the crossbow contraption strapped to his back.

Jon gave him a quick smile and shook his head. Part of it might have been the man’s height, but his good humor and quick wit reminded strongly him of Tyrion Lannister. A man Jon supposed he would never see again even if he did somehow make it back to Westeros alive.

“This way, down the bank,” Cassandra called. “The road ahead is blocked.”

“We must move quickly,” Solas pressed them.

Jon followed, hopping over part of a broken gate and onto a dirt path that led down the mountain to the side of a frozen river. When they reached a widening of the path, Jon heard the distinct sound of demons appearing on the surface of the frozen river.

“Demons ahead!” Solas confirmed.

“Glad you brought me now, Seeker?” Varric couldn’t help but taunt.

There were four enemies this time, two each of Shades and Wraiths, but this time one of the Shades was bulkier with strange armor attached to its back.

“We’ve got you covered!” Varric yelled, as Cassandra charged down below and Solas took position with Varric at the crest of the hill.

Jon unsheathed his sword once more and followed Cassandra to the Shades. He was relieved that the two newest members of their group were able to pull the attention of the Wraiths as he and Cassandra flanked and made short work of the Greater and Lesser Shade, as Jon now thought of them. Once the Greater Shade finally fell, taking nearly twice as long as its brethren had, Jon turned to the closest Wraith and felled it with a single blow, it being near the end of the battle.

“Hey, not bad kid,” Varric said as Solas and he left their perch and joined them on the frozen lake

Jon nodded as he took deep breaths, not bothering to sheath his sword. He had a feeling that they would be meeting the next foe sooner rather than later. He was proven right after they’d past a burning cottage, encountering another group of Shades that were cut down just as quickly.

“So, Jon,” Varric said conversationally after the last Shade had disintegrated. “I can’t quite place your accent. And I’ve a very good ear, just so you know. But if I had to place it… Fereldan, maybe?”

“No?” Jon said, not quite sure where Fereldan was and why he should sound like he was from it.

“What? No- the Free Marches then?” Varric asked with some shock. “Give me something here, it’s going to bother me.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Jon responded, feeling frustrated and confused.

“Well, aren’t you charming?” Varric said with a smile, clearly not expecting an answer to that question at least.

Jon sighed, but before he could open his mouth to say anything further, the mark on his hand flared once again causing him to hiss and look down at it with displeasure.

“Shit, are you alright?” Varric asked with concern.

“We must hurry,” Solas told them, looking at the mark flaring on Jon’s hand with worry in his eyes.

All of them took his advice and continued, coming upon more stone steps leading up the side of the mountain that were partially covered in snow. The path was particularly steep and winding this time, Jon working hard to ignore the growing fatigue from constant battle, climbing, and the unnatural pain radiating from the mark on his hand.

At the summit they were greeted by what was becoming a common sight of Shades and Wraiths, and Jon threw himself into battle once more, now confident that both Solas and Varric would cover them from afar.

He had even been pleased to learn that the glowing rings that occasionally appeared about him and Cassandra in battle were protections cast by the mage. This he realized when he’d failed to dodge one of the Wraith’s green projectiles just as an armored Shade swiped at him. He’d flinched as he parried the Shades attack, wondering what sort of damage the spell would cause. Instead, the attack fizzled out a foot away from his side, and he struck the Shade down quickly before advancing on the Wraith.

After that, Jon threw himself into battle fully when he caught sight of the glowing ring around him. However, he soon realized it was only a temporary protection and that taking any damage only shortened the amount of time it would stay in place. But even a few seconds of invulnerability was beyond useful, and Jon used every advantage to end the battles as quickly as possible.

“Shit, kid,” Varric said after they paused to recover from the latest skirmish. “You’re a hell of a fighter, I don't think I've seen that kind of fighting from seasoned Templars."

Jon was focusing on taking slow, measured breaths, trying to ignore the pain still shooting from his hand and the ache that had set into his bones and only managed to shrug in Varric’s direction.

“I've yet to see him take any damage or use a potion,” Cassandra told the other two. “And we fought more than a few battles before dealing with the first rift.”

“You must be quite the experienced fighter then,” Solas said, but he sent them all an impatient look. “If you’re all ready, let us continue.”

And so, they did. Cassandra led them onward though it wasn’t long before she spoke up once more. Jon noticed he was traveling with a chatty lot.

“I hope Leliana made it through all this,” she said as they passed more burning corpses.

“She’s resourceful, Seeker,” Varric reassured her, something Jon thought was a little strange coming from a pair that had exuded a fair amount of animosity in most of the interactions he had witnessed.

It was significant considering he had only met them roughly an hour ago.

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp,” Solas interjected. “We are almost there.”

And Solas was correct. After climbing another set of stone steps, they encountered the eerie presence of a glowing, green rift and soldiers struggling to stem the tide of demons materializing from it.

“Another rift!” Cassandra called, bringing her sword and shield to the ready.

“We must seal it,” Solas urged Jon. “Quickly!”

“They keep coming!” one of the soldiers cried as he shielded himself from the attacks of a lesser shade. “Help us!”

Jon immediately fell into step with Cassandra and defeated the monsters.

“Hurry use the mark,” Solas called to him again before the final enemy had collapsed in on itself.

Jon startled and then looked down at his hand, the green point of light pulsing wildly in the presence of the rift. Feeling foolish, he raised his hand into the air, but that, it seemed, was all he needed to do in order to trigger the connection between the mark and the rift. Jon felt it tugging at him, draining the rift slowly until finally it burst and threw his hand back and exploding into nothing.

“The rift is gone!” Cassandra wasted no time telling the forces on the other side of the large wooden gate. “Open the gate!”

“Right away, Lady Cassandra!” a voice immediately called in reply, and Jon heard the men on the other side unbar the gate.

“We are clear for the moment,” Solas told him with an approving smile. “Well done.”

“Whatever that thing on your hand is,” Varric said. “It’s useful."

Jon supposed they were right, the mark wasn’t something he had wanted, but now it looked like it was the key to fixing whatever chaos had been unleashed.

Finally, the gate was open and quickly enough their group found the woman, Leliana, at the end of the bridge arguing with a man dressed in white and red. To Jon, it looked as if he belonged to some kind of religious order.

“The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!”

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility.”

“ _I_ have caused trouble?”

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy- haven’t you all done enough already?”

At this point Jon was close enough to see the dangerous expression on the fair woman’s face. Jon had the impression that Leliana felt dangerous in the same way Sansa or Arya had felt dangerous to him at the very end. A sweet face can hide many things after all.

“You’re not in command here,” Leliana practically snarled at the indifferent man.

“Enough! I will not have it,” he said in return, then turning his stern eyes on the approaching group. “Ah, here they come.”

“You made it,” Leliana said, clearly relieved as she caught sight of Cassandra with Jon. “Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

“I know who he is,” the Chancellor rudely interrupted. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

Jon stared at the blustering man incredulously. There was a hole in the sky that apparently only he could fix, and he wanted Jon sent away to be executed without trial? Jon thought Janos Slynt had had more sense than this man.

“Order me?” Cassandra repeated incredulously. “You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a thug,” Roderick retorted. “But a thug who supposedly served the Chantry.”

Jon glanced between the Chancellor and Cassandra incredulously and thought the man might not have any sense at all. Jon wasn’t sure if it was wise to call the fierce woman who was covered in a splatter of demon blood a mere thug to her face. As it was Cassandra looked ready to either spit in the man’s face or lunge for him with her sword.

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana interjected, hands clasped firmly behind her back as she glared at the man.

“Justinia is dead! We must elect her replacement, and obey _her_ orders on the matter,” Roderick said firmly.

At this Jon could not hold his peace any longer. The Chancellor wanted them to stick their heads in the snow during a crisis where everyone might die just because there wasn’t a leader handy to make commands? Jon had never heard such nonsense strung together all at once in quite some time.

“Now, I might be wrong,” Jon interrupted. “But I think closing the Breach is the more pressing issue?”

He gestured to the great glowing green hole in the sky that was spewing meteors, demons, and gods knew what else. Why did it always seem to fall to him to point out the obvious life-threatening issues? Jon thought he might as well be in King’s Landing once more with a wight trying to convince Queen Cersei why she might not want an army of the dead knocking on her door.

“ _You_ brought this on us in the first place!” Roderick accused. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” Cassandra told him.

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers,” Roderick protested, his lips pinched together unpleasantly as he looked at the two women.

“We must get to the temple. It’s the quickest route,” Cassandra said.

“But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains,” Leliana argued.

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky,” Cassandra told her.

“Listen to me,” Roderick said to them. “Abandon this now, before more lives are lost.”

Jon thought it was curious that the man barked orders and yet somehow seemed aware that no one would truly listen to him without the authority of Cassandra or Leliana. He had gotten the impression that the two women were the most level-headed and in charge from the beginning, but it was pleasant to see them have the clear authority over a man who, from the sound of his title, held some high position within their faith. Pleasant, but strange. It wasn’t often that the people with the most sense had the final say, especially if they happened to be a woman.

The Breach pulsed and grew once again, the mark on Jon’s hand mimicking it, and he raised his hand to inspect it. Thankfully, the mark wasn’t causing the same pain as the times previous, but unpleasant waves of energy radiated from his palm up to his shoulder.

“How do _you_ think we should proceed?” Cassandra turned to ask him.

“Why are you asking me what I think?” Jon asked, taken aback.

He looked between the two expectant faces. It was a strange turn of events to say the least. It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago that the two of them had him chains so they could question him about the murder of their ‘Divine Justinia.’

“You have the mark,” Solas spoke up for the first time since they’d arrived at the end of the bridge.

“And you are the one we must keep alive,” Cassandra finished his point. “Since we cannot agree on our own…”

Jon thought about their two options: take the mountain path or charge with the soldiers. One was fast but indirect- if their soldiers had been lost on the path it meant that there was the possibility that they were fighting a rift. The other option was to head in directly with their main forces- a slower option and ignoring whatever problem needed to be addressed in the mountains.

“Let’s use the mountain path, the soldiers can act as a distraction for us as we make our way through,” Jon decided. “We must work together. You all know what’s at stake.”

Cassandra pursed her lips together but nodded.

“Leliana,” she said. “Bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” the Chancellor warned, giving the back of Cassandra’s head a dark look as they passed him by.

Jon glanced at the tight, grim look on Cassandra’s face as they made their way toward the mountain path. He could only hope he had made the right decision, especially since Cassandra had supported it fully despite contradicting her own opinions on the matter.

The climb was a long one, the mountain paths were steep, and the snow was fresh and knee-deep. Jon wouldn’t normally have had any reservations about the path, but he was intensely aware of how exhausted he was. Each step forward seemed to claw at him.

And then they reached the ladders.

Jon simply stared at the long way up and sighed. The rest of the group began their ascent without hesitation, but he waited until Varric had made it up the ladder a good bit before hauling himself up the rungs last, mindful of the sword sticking out of his belt.

“The tunnel should be just ahead,” Cassandra told them when everyone had made it up to the first platform. “The path to the temple lies just beyond it.”

“What manner of tunnel is this,” Solas asked as they moved to the next ladder. “A mine?”

“Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths,” Cassandra explained. 

“And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?” Varric asked.

“Along with whatever has detained them,” Solas said grimly.

“We shall see soon enough,” Cassandra said with a note of finality, and that was all anyone had to say for a long while.

It wasn’t a particularly difficult climb, nothing as dangerous or thrilling as climbing the Wall. But nevertheless, Jon was pleased enough when they had reached the entrance to a stone tunnel.

They ventured inside. The abandoned mines were old and falling apart, stone tiles were displaced and the wood rotting. The only real indication that anyone had passed through recently were the lit torches hanging upon the wall. There was a strange aura about the place, a metallic tang to the air that set Jon on edge. He could tell that the others felt the same, there was none of the banter he was coming to expect during calm moments.

And before long, the caution paid off. There was a Greater Shade waiting for them in the middle of their path and two of the Wraiths Jon was learning to loathe. There was nothing more irritating than having a stinging green ball of light smack you in the back during the middle of a battle. It was annoying at best but a deadly distraction at its worst.

Once they were finished, they moved quickly, passing the deep pits leading down to the mine, or so Jon guessed.

Not before long they found the exit, but with it, three of the missing soldiers.

Varric was the one to have a deep sigh at first sight of them and said, “Guess we found the soldiers.”

“That cannot be all of them,” Cassandra said impatiently, inspecting the snowy landscape around them with a sharp gaze.

“So you think the others could be holed up ahead?” Varric pondered.

“Our priority must be the breach,” Solas reminded them, not unkindly. “Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.”

“I'm leaving _that_ to the man with the glowing hand,” Varric said with a smile in Jon's direction.

Jon returned the gesture, albeit weakly, and he gestured toward the path in front of them.

“Let’s move on,” Jon said.

They followed the dirt path down, the glowing green of the breach was brighter and more ominous than ever. Before long, they caught sight of a rift, its own glow eclipsed by the gargantuan one visible behind it. The more alarming issue was the exhausted soldiers struggling with the demons forming around it.

“Lady Cassandra!” one of the soldiers called once they moved in closer.

“Lieutenant!” Cassandra called back as she threw herself into the fray, swinging her sword at one of the wraiths. “You’re alive!”

“Barely,” the lieutenant answered her weakly.

They all worked together to defeat the lingering demons; the rift so close to the ground that they had to constantly maneuver around it. No one wanted to find out what would happen if they touched the thing.

After the first wave of demons, Jon raised his arm to attack the rift with a bolt of energy before the second wave could spawn. He could almost sense them coming, just as he could sense the rift was weakening as he drained its power.

The second wave contained a new type of demon. Monstrously tall and thin, they had a horrifying screech that made Jon want to claw at his ears. He and the rest worked quickly to overwhelm them, and the demons were dispatched easily enough. Jon wasted no time dealing with the rift completely, letting the mark on his hand drain it before cutting off the connection and letting it explode.

“Sealed, as before,” Solas said as he walked up beside him. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric quipped as he holstered his crossbow over his shoulder.

“You and me both,” Jon said, staring in the distance at the ‘big one’ in question.

Cassandra helped the soldier to her feet, grabbing her arms to steady her.

“Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer,” she said.

“Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant,” Cassandra said, turning to look back at Jon. “He insisted we come this way.”

“The prisoner?” she asked. “Then you…?”

“It was worth saving you,” Jon said, nodding in her direction. “If we could.”

“Then you have my sincere gratitude,” she said, returning the nod and saluting with her fist over her heart.

“The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment,” Cassandra told the lieutenant and the remaining soldiers. “Go, while you still can.”

The soldiers left quickly, and Jon was pleased that there were some people they had been able to save from becoming one of the corpses strewn on the mountainside.

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well,” Solas commented.

“Let’s hurry before that changes,” Cassandra told them.

Jon was eager enough to continue, especially since all they had left to do was climb down instead of continuing the ever constant upward climb.

“So…” Varric began. “Holes in the fade don’t just _accidently_ happen right?”

And there was the chatter Jon had been missing in the dark quiet of the mines. It was a little strange to banter with people he barely knew, but it was comforting to have something to fill the heavy silence and distract from the disaster waiting for them literally above their heads.

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it _is_ possible,” Solas answered Varric thoughtfully.

“But there are easier ways to make things explode,” Varric said in turn.

Solas conceded that point before Cassandra interrupted.

“We will consider _how_ this happened once the immediate danger is past,” she said impatiently.

Jon was reluctant to agree. There were questions upon questions he had to ask them- where exactly he was and what exactly was the ‘fade’ were some of the top questions on his list. But perhaps the time and a place for that was later, and the echoes of explosions from the breach was a good enough reminder of that.

Not before long they came upon the smoking remains of the temple, a winding path leading downward through the ruin, burning bodies still shielding themselves from the blast.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas announced as they walked slowly down the ruined and barren path toward the breach.

“What’s left of it,” Varric said grimly, looking around.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you,” Cassandra said to Jon. “They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

Jon could only stare in horror, the scene was one he found all too familiar and, in that moment, he wished more than anything to be anywhere else in the world, if only to escape the smell of burning flesh. Jon tried to make himself numb to it, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other. They were almost there.

Finally, they entered the main temple and the main rift- The Breach- was completely visible. Jon stared in wonder at the size of it and at the large boulders that floated hundreds of feet above it like debris floating in a puddle.

“The breach is a long way up,” Varric said in wonder.

“You’re here!” a voice called from behind them, and Jon turned to see Leliana approach them with a group of soldiers. “Thank the Maker.”

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple,” Cassandra told her.

Leliana nodded and gestured to her men, moving quickly to get into position. Then Cassandra turned to him.

“This is your chance to end this,” Cassandra said. “Are you ready?”

Jon glanced at her and then looked up sourly at the Breach in the sky. He wasn’t sure this was something a person could possibly be ready for, but there was no choice.

“I’m not sure how to even start getting up to that thing,” Jon told her.

“No,” Solas said, turning their attention to the largest rift they had seen yet, but was more manageable than the gargantuan Breach in the sky. “This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Then let’s find a way down,” Cassandra said. “And be careful.”

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice,” a deep, menacing voice resonated in the ruins of the temple around them.

Jon and the others looked all around but could find no source.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked, her voice tight with emotion.

“At a guess: the person who created the Breach,” Solas said before nodding toward the path ahead.

They passed by Leliana and her men, taking the stairs deeper into the temple. On the side of tunnel leading down, there was a strange red crystal embedded in the wall. It glowed ominously and radiated a strange energy.

“You know this stuff is Red Lyrium, Seeker,” Varric said anxiously, warily giving the crystals a wide berth.

“I see it, Varric,” Cassandra said impatiently.

“But what’s it _doing_ here?” he insisted.

Jon didn’t think Varric expected any kind of answer from the Seeker, but he was surprised to see the other man panic like this to see a red crystal in the wall. They might not have known each other long, but he didn’t seem like a nervous type.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…” Solas offered, although he seemed not entirely sure about his own reasoning.

“It’s evil,” Varric insisted, and then looked at Jon. “Don’t touch it.”

Jon shot him an incredulous look, as if he was going to touch the evil magical rock, but Varric was already hurrying to the next passage to escape the hallway of red lyrium. Another thing that Jon would put on his lengthy list of questions to ask if he ever made it out alive.

As they walked further in, another voice interrupted them.

“Keep the sacrifice still.”.

“Someone help me!” cried someone new.

“That’s Divine Justinia's voice,” Cassandra said, looking about in shock and wonder.

They hurried down the path with greater urgency than before until the finally reached a great chamber where the largest rift Jon had seen yet was pulsing in front of them. His hand flared in response; the mark almost sizzling in the center of his palm.

“Someone help me!” the Divine’s voice called again.

But this time there was an answer.

What’s going on here?” said Jon’s own voice.

Jon stared up at the ceiling, wondering what sort of magics were at work here.

“That was your voice,” Cassandra said, looking to him. “Most Holy called out to you. But…”

A flash of light cut her off and ghostly images appeared before them. An old woman dressed in a manner similar to the Chancellor appeared before them. She was restrained, her arms held back by a ghostly red light, the distress clearly written on her face. A figure hidden by shadow loomed over her, only his piercing red eyes were visible.

And then to Jon’s distress, his own image entered the room. His ghostly figure reflected the confusion, wonder, and worry currently on his face. 

“What’s going on here,” his ghost said with care, a hand wrapping around the handle of Longclaw.

“Run while you can!” Justinia told him. “Warn them!”

“We have an intruder,” the figure said, ignoring the both of them. “Kill him. Now.”

Another flash of white cleared everything away, as if the vision had never happened. It answered some questions, but not nearly enough. At the very least it proved that someone other than Jon had attacked the Temple and their Divine.

“You _were_ there!” Cassandra said, turning toward him accusingly. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don't know,” Jon said firmly, shaking his head. “I don't remember any of this. I still don't remember how I even got here.”

“Echoes of what happened here. The fade bleeds into this place,” Solas said almost absently.

It explained precisely nothing to Jon, but that was hardly surprising at this point.

“The rift is not sealed, but it is closed…albeit temporarily,” Solas explained to them.“I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons,” Cassandra called, her voice echoing in the cavern. “Stand ready!”

All the soldiers, archers, and members of their party complied with her orders. The rift was surrounded in short order, and Cassandra nodded to Jon as she drew her sword. Jon nodded in turn and raised his hand, letting the magic of the mark do its work. A stream of green energy flowed from his marked hand to the rift, the connection more powerful and overwhelming than all the previous rifts.

The rift set out an explosion of green light in short order and it formed into a creature of giant proportions. It roared as it appeared before them and slammed into the earth. Lightning fizzled over the giant’s rough and stony skin. It was almost scaled, and many of the scales ended in jagged points from the demon’s head, shoulders, even its elbows. Jon stared at it with wide eyes, sword at the ready, wondering how they were meant to fight such a beast and stay alive.

“Now!” Cassandra called, and the first wave of arrows was let loose upon the beast.

Jon waited for the familiar barrier to appear around both himself and Cassandra before following her charge to attack. She let the arrows and bolts of magic Solas distract the creature before attacking the beast’s vulnerable knees and ankles. Jon followed suit on the other side but remaining careful of the beast’s other limbs. After all, it would only take one good hit by the giant for Jon to be taken out of the fight- perhaps permanently.

“We must strip its defenses! Wear it down!” Cassandra called, her voice still echoing powerfully.

At this, the monster started to move from its position, walking slowly around before it turned toward them, and a whip made of lightning formed in the grip of its hand.

“Watch out!” Jon called, moving around to the side of the creature, hoping not to get caught.

The archers let loose another volley onto the demon, and it staggered back, but not before releasing a beam of energy in the direction of Solas. Jon was startled at first before he realized that Solas had managed to cover himself in one of the energy shields before the monster had attacked him. Jon took the opportunity to attack it from the back of its knee and was pleased to see it stumble.

“More coming through the rift!” Cassandra called.

At that, demons appeared before them which was honestly the last thing Jon needed. It was only the Shades and Wraiths they had been fighting before, but it was another thing entirely to fight the creatures while the rabid behemoth was swinging at them from above.

Jon lured the lesser demons away from the greater one and dispatched them as quickly as he could before returning to the fray. He was lucky enough to have Solas’ occasional protection and the arrows of the soldiers aiding him.

“Quickly, disrupt the rift!” Cassandra told him.

Jon nodded to her, moving as far from the demon and the rift as he dared before raising his hand. It must have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours as he waited for the rift to overload. The creature had turned its head in his direction, moving as if to attack him before the rift was finally disrupted and the explosion sent the demon to its knees.

“The demon is vulnerable- now!” Cassandra ordered the soldiers around them.

Jon followed the order as well, slashing and hacking at the creature’s back, sides, and arms as hard as he could. He watched carefully as it recovered, pulling itself from its knees onto its feet. Jon tried to move as quickly as he could but was knocked to the ground when the creature slammed both fists down. Thankfully, it only clipped him, but the force of it had winded him.

Jon struggled to get back up, breathing heavily and staring at the monster that had moved to attack other targets. It cackled terribly as it summoned another wave of lesser demons, its voice deep and booming. He ignored the larger demon for a moment, taking a reprieve by finishing off a few of the lesser Shades before circling behind the greater monster’s back.

He joined Cassandra in attacking its flank, managing to get it to fall to its knees once more.

“Now! Seal the rift!” Cassandra yelled to him when the demon didn’t appear to be getting back up.

Jon wasted no time lifting his hand and letting the rift drain itself of power, thereby sealing it. Jon could feel everyone’s eyes on him, his arm trembling as he struggled to hold the connection. It took more energy than all the other rifts combined. He could almost feel it draining away his life force, it was taking so much from him.

“Do it!” Cassandra urged him on.

At that, the last surge of energy left him, the rift exploded into nothing and a huge ball of energy traveled up to the Breach above, blowing out across the heavens.

Jon closed his eyes, it was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaa. So that's the end of the prologue. Jon will be coming back again next week as confused as ever to officially join the Inquisition. 
> 
> Appreciate all the kudos and comments! Please let me know what you liked and all that. See you next week~


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon wakes up in Haven after sealing the Breach, witnessing the formation of the Inquisition, and discovers something he thought lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy, new chapter posted! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Jon groaned as he shifted in his bed, feeling like he had been hit in the head and then the chest with a sledgehammer. He curled up on himself just slightly, groaning under his breath, before he realized there was someone else in the room.

“Oh!” a woman cried, as Jon sat up to look around. “I didn’t know you were awake; I swear!”

Jon rested back on his elbows staring at the strange, small woman cowering before him. She had slicked back red hair and the same strange ears that Solas had.

“I- um, it’s alright,” Jon said, leaning forward and moving his legs to slide off the bed. “Don’t worry about it. I only-”

The woman fell to her knees before him, bowing with her head to the floor. Jon froze, unsure of what he might have done to make the woman act in such a way.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant,” she cried. “You’re back in Haven, my lord. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

Jon looked down at the mark that was still glowing steadily in the center of his palm. He’d almost thought that he had dreamt up the mark, the demons and the giant hole in the sky.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!” she continued.

“Three days?” Jon asked, staring down at the mark on his hand that did indeed feel less volatile. “Then the danger is over?”

“The breach is still in the sky but that’s what they say,” she answered him. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’!”

“And where is she?” Jon asked.

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once’ she said!”

And with that the woman left the box she had spilled in surprise and nearly bolted for the door. Jon could barely believe what had happened, never mind the fact that he’d been asleep for three days. Jon looked down in distaste at the clothing someone had changed him into.

The strange doublet and breeches were the same tan color and fashioned from a sturdy cloth, all the clasps a shining gold. Jon looked around and could not catch sight of his normal black attire. He would have given anything then and there to be dressed in his familiar leathers. There was no sight of Longclaw despite the evidence in the strange vision that it’d come with him. Jon steadied himself onto his feet, but very slowly. He felt every crack and creak in his bones despite only just reaching five-and-twenty.

Jon glanced about the wooden cabin he had found himself in. It looked as if someone had already settled in, there were notes scattered across the desk and stacks of books as well. A roaring fire blazed in the stone chimney, which Jon was grateful for. There was food and drink, even an instrument sitting next to the bed. Clearly, someone had put them in their home.

He tugged at the hem of the doublet, feeling uncomfortable in the tight clothing that wasn’t his. He caught sight of himself in a mirror and did a double take at the wild state of his hair. It wasn’t tied back and when he had the opportunity, he would have a difficult time untangling the worst of it. A bit of searching uncovered a piece of string that would serve as hair tie, and he pulled his hair back into a bun.

His beard was a little longer than he would have liked, but it was still neat enough. It was time he went to see Cassandra at the ‘Chantry’, wherever that might be. There would hopefully be someone around to ask once he went outside.

And with that thought, Jon opened the door to the cabin and stepped outside. What he saw nearly sent him scrambling back into the cabin. Soldiers lined the path from the cabin into a small village, all of them standing at attention and saluting him, fists over their hearts. Smallfolk were gathered around them, all of them trying to get a good look at him. Jon looked around warily, but at this point he couldn’t very well turn around, and he walked past the soldiers.

As he passed the crowd by he couldn’t help but here bits and pieces of their conversation.

“That’s him. The Herald of Andraste!”

“We shouldn’t disturb him…”

“Andraste herself blessed him…”

Several more of the smallfolk called out blessings to him in the name of this ‘Andraste’. Or telling him to go with the Maker. It was a faith he had never heard of before, and Jon had thought he had heard of plenty back in Westeros what with the Seven, the Drowned God, and the Lord of Light.

He assumed the ‘Chantry’ would be something like a Sept for this Andraste. He had never seen a sept larger than the small one his father had built for his lady wife and the neglected Sept that was kept at Castle Black.

The only convenience of the crowd was that they seemed to be leading him up to the largest building in the village, the building that Jon would certainly call the ‘Chantry’ if he had to pick it out himself. There was a large group of men and women dressed in same garb as their Chancellor and Divine, albeit less elegantly.

Sure enough, he overheard whispers of Chancellor Roderick, Andraste, the Maker and the rift. Jon had suspected more hostility considering he was certain closing the rift would hardly win over a man such as Chancellor Roderick, but Jon was surprised to receive the same sort of deference he had seen from the rest of the soldiers and the village dwellers.

“Go in peace, Herald of Andraste,” one said to him.

“Maker watch over you,” said another.

Jon only nodded at whoever addressed him directly, too confused to think of how he could be the Herald of someone he had never heard of in his life. Instead, he opened the heavy wooden door and let himself in.

The hall within was dimly lit with candles sparsely here and there. Many of the candles were clustered together on the floor as if whoever had lit them hadn’t had the time to set them anywhere better. There were long wooden benches bunched together awkwardly to the right of him, wooden slats and other supplies strewn about. It was a scene of careless chaos. But he could see the signs of a different purpose hidden in the small alcoves and the heavy tomes tucked away.

However, it was the door at the other end of the main hall that caught his attention after moving slowly further into the building once he closed the entrance door, fighting slightly against a gust of wind and snow. As he neared the other door, he heard the muffled yet unmistakable voices of Cassandra and the Chancellor that had wanted him executed.

Jon put a hand on the door’s handle and pushed slowly, trying his best to ignore the conversation that could be heard clearly from the other side.

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded Chancellor,” Cassandra was saying as he opened the door. “As is yours.”

There were two soldiers standing guard in the room while the Chancellor, Cassandra and Leliana stood around a large wooden table at the center of the room, arguing Jon supposed as he had seen the three of them do little else.

“Chain him,” Roderick said to the soldiers once he finally noticed Jon walking into the room. “I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra said immediately after him.

Jon felt his lips twitch as the guards saluted Cassandra and left.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick scolded Cassandra.

Cassandra in turn narrowed his eyes at the man, looking affronted.

“The Breach is stable,” she said. “But it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

“So you still suspect me, even after everything we just did?” Jon asked, folding his arms together as he glanced between the three of them.

“We absolutely do,” Roderick told him, but once again Cassandra contradicted him.

“No, we do not,” she said through gritted teeth, glaring at the other man, her displeasure clear to see on her face.

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave,” Leliana interrupted. “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others- or have allies who yet live.”

“ _I_ am a suspect?” Roderick said incredulously.

“You,” Leliana confirmed. “And many others.”

“But _not_ the prisoner?” the Chancellor demanded more than he asked.

Jon could practically feel the man’s ire rising from where he was standing which was several feet away from the man.

“I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to him for help,” Cassandra said with an air of finality.

“So, his survival, that thing on his hand- all coincidence?” Roderick demanded, crossing his arms as he stared imperiously at Cassandra.

“Providence,” Cassandra said with a fervor that made Jon uncomfortable. “The Maker sent him to us in our dark hour.”

“The breach is stable now,” Jon tried to reason. “What more is there?”

“We must try again,” Cassandra told him.

“The breach remains, and your mark remains our only hope at closing it,” Leliana added.

“This is not for you to decide,” the Chancellor said to Leliana, still ignoring Jon.

Cassandra slammed a thick heavy book down upon the table, startling Jon and the Chancellor. It had the same blazing eye that Cassandra wore on her armor and Jon had caught sight of that same sigil about the camp.

“You know what this is, Chancellor?” Cassandra asked. “A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the inquisition reborn.”

Cassandra advanced on Roderick as she spoke her next words.

“We will close the Breach.”

She poked him in the chest as she said, “We will find those responsible.

Roderick was backed into a corner with nowhere to run as Cassandra moved directly into his space to make her declaration.

“And we will restore order with or without your approval.”

Roderick took one last sweeping look around the room, his face pinched tight and left without saying another word.

Jon couldn’t help but duck his head to hide his smile. It had been more than satisfying to watch Cassandra defeat the stubborn and headstrong man with her words along. Well, her words and some well applied physical intimidation.

Cassandra seemed sheepish as soon as the Chancellor left, rubbing the back of her head as if she was embarrassed. Jon couldn’t help but admire her. She was a woman who would have found a home in the North if born to a different life in Westeros.

“This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old,” Leliana told them. “Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice,” Cassandra told her before turning to Jon once more. “We must act now. With you at our side.”

Jon looked at her for a moment, then down at the book- the Divine’s directive- on the table.

“What is the Inquisition of old exactly?” Jon asked, wanting to know more about what he was signing up for before it was too late.

If it wasn’t already.

“It preceded the Chantry,” Leliana explained. “People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

“After,” Cassandra continued. “they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.”

Again, Jon had more questions than were answered, but there was a time and a place for asking what exactly a Templar order was. At least the Chantry seemed to roughly be the equivalent of the Faith of the Seven. It was easier to understand when he thought of it in such a way. He almost thought that the Templars sounded like the Faith Militant- the Warriors of the Seven-, but that wasn’t quite right.

“Can I refuse?” Jon couldn’t help but ask.

Was he still a prisoner? That was the real question he was asking, and the two women in front of him were clever enough to see it

“You can go, if you wish,” Leliana told him.

“You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty,” Cassandra told him bluntly, but honestly. “The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us.”

“We can also help _you,_ ” Leliana added, looking at him knowingly.

Jon wondered how much Leliana had guessed. If she knew that he suspected, he was in a land entirely unknown to any Westerosi. Perhaps if he stayed with the Inquisition he could find a way back home. He certainly didn’t know anyone else to ask…

“It will not be easy if you stay, but you cannot pretend this has not changed you,” Cassandra said, looking at the mark on his hand.

“I’m afraid you might be right,” Jon said, looking down at the glowing green mark on his hand too. “Too often it seems that my life is changed in ways beyond my control.”

Leliana and Cassandra had nothing to say to that but looked at him with curiosity shining bright in their eyes. Perhaps like Jon, they had decided it was a question for another time. After all, he still had not given them his answer.

“I- when I woke up,” Jon began, looking up from his hand to the two women. “I didn’t imagine this happening.”

“Neither did we,” Leliana told him.

“Help us fix this before it’s too late,” Cassandra said, holding out her hand to him.

Jon clasped it firmly with his and they shook on it, nodding to each other in understanding. Cassandra gave him an approving smile that Jon even returned just the slightest bit.

This was something neither of them had expected, or even wanted, but life took one in strange directions. At the very least, they could perhaps try to do the right thing. Jon felt confident that Cassandra would not allow this newborn Inquisition to follow an unjust path.

Perhaps, considering all the injustice he had allowed before, following this Inquisition was the best decision he could make.

“We must announce ourselves now,” Cassandra explained to him after Leliana had left to send off her ravens.

Jon nodded, understanding that there would be much to do now with their fledgling organization whose sole purpose was to provide oversight to everyone else in their world. It would be a steep mountain to climb considering almost no one had any regard or respect for them except for their own forces and the local smallfolk.

“Cassandra,” Jon began, catching her attention and then brought her gaze down to his own clothes with a gesture. “Where are my things?”

“Oh, my apologies,” Cassandra said sincerely, looking embarrassed. “Your clothes were in a wretched state, as were we all after the battle with the pride demon. They were being cleaned last I heard. I will find them for you.”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely, tugging at the collar of the strange beige cloth he felt was gripping his neck too tightly.

“I take it you are unused to wearing much else besides your own clothes?” Cassandra asked with a wry smile.

“Something like that,” Jon conceded. “Honestly, I’ve been wearing much the same thing all my life. Just the color has changed.”

“So, you grew up somewhere cold?” Cassandra questioned, the curious light he had seen before sparking in her eyes again.

“Something like that,” Jon said. “But I wanted to ask, the vision that appeared before us…”

“Yes?” Cassandra prompted, more closed off now that she thought about the disturbing vision they had all seen of the Divine’s capture and the things that Jon could not remember.

“In the vision, I was wearing my own sword,” Jon explained before she could sink too deeply into her own reverie. “I wanted to ask, have you found it anywhere? It’s important to me.”

“Oh, yes,” Cassandra said, startled. “It seems I must offer you my apologies once again. It was not my intention to keep it from you. There has simply been little chance.”

“One moment I was a prisoner, the next I was knocked out cold for three days?” Jon said with a smile, happy that someone at least knew where Longclaw was.

“More or less,” Cassandra said as she clapped him on the arm. “Although you are much more than that now. Thank you, I know that this is not your fight, but has become so against your will.”

“It’s fine,” Jon said.

“Now, you may find your clothes in the cabin you awoke in,” Cassandra told him. “I will find your sword- I believe we left it with our armorer and blacksmith- Harrit.”

“Very well,” Jon said, turning to the door. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, there is much to do,” Cassandra told him as she walked with him to the Chantry’s entrance. “If it was an option, I would give you more time to rest after such a trial, but every moment is of utmost importance, we have no time to waste. Meet me back here when you are ready, I will have your sword.”

Jon smiled at her gratefully and braced himself for the crowd outside.

Jon tugged at his own collar, the black leather sturdy but giving, and he sighed a breath of relief at having rid himself of the other clothes- as grateful as he was for their being gifted to him. He preferred his own clothes at that was that.

Cassandra was where she had promised to be, in front of the Chantry, but she was gathered there with most of the village. New banners were already being hung from the chantry and about the village. The eye on fire that Jon now knew, but this one had a sword plunged down the middle of it. Jon supposed that was the difference between the regular Chantry sigil and the personal sigil of the inquisition.

Once Jon had approached, the other three people standing with Cassandra- Leliana and two others he had yet to meet- nodded in their direction and headed into the Chantry. Cassandra turned to greet him and held her hand out, a familiar scabbard held in her hands.

“Your weapon,” Cassandra announced.

Jon held out his hands almost reverently, the white stone pommel fashioned into the shape of a direwolf was dearer to him than he could possibly describe. Longclaw had been his closest and most faithful companion these past years, besides Ghost himself of course. It was a relief to have the priceless Valyrian steel sword in his hands once more.

“Thank you,” Jon said as he took the sword from her and fastened it about his waist.

“It’s very light,” Cassandra commented. “Harrit was most impressed with the craftsmanship. He said he’d never seen the like of it before.”

“It’s a unique weapon,” Jon told her. “And it was gifted to me by an old friend. I’m glad it was not lost.”

Cassandra nodded to him and then gestured toward the Chantry doors.

“It’s time,” she said, and they walked in together. “You must meet the other members of the Inquisition.”

The two of them walked through the Chantry doors, and part way down the stone halls before Cassandra looked down curiously at his hand. Jon followed her line of sight down to the mark, and he stared at it, still a strange sight to see.

“Does it trouble you?” Cassandra asked as they walked.

“It’s fine,” Jon said with a shrug. “It doesn’t bother me like it did before.”

And that was true enough. There had been no pain or strange sensations since they had fought the pride demon and sealed the great rift.

“Well, what’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach,” Cassandra told him. “You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed- provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“It sounds like something beyond my own understanding,” Jon admitted. “But couldn’t it just make things worse? That level of power?”

“And people call me a pessimist,” Cassandra said with a smirk as she opened the door at the end of the hall.

Leliana and the two others- a man and a woman- were waiting for them around the table that now housed a large map.

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” Cassandra said, gesturing to man in such obvious Lannister colors that Jon had to blink a few times in surprise.

“Such as they are,” the man, Cullen, said humbly which was a startling contrast to the Lannister appearance. “We lost many soldiers in the Valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”

Jon thought uncomfortably of his decision to take the mountain pass instead of charging with the Commander’s soldiers but told himself they would have lost men either way.

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet,” Cassandra continued. “Our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

“I’ve heard much,” said the delicate looking woman dressed in gold ruffles and jewelry. “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra finished.

“My position here involves a degree of…” Leliana said delicately.

“She is our spymaster,” Cassandra finished for her.

“Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra,” Leliana said with a sigh.

Jon could only try to suppress a smile at the bluntness of it as well as Leliana’s reaction

“Well met, all of you,” Jon said. “Jon Snow, brother of the Night’s Watch.”

Josephine smiled politely but with some confusion in her eyes while Cassandra and Leliana shared a look. Cullen simply nodded in response, and much to Jon’s surprise, no one asked about the Watch.

‘Perhaps some have heard of Westeros here then?’ Jon thought.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra told Jon.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana stated, though Jon could tell from the pinched looks that appeared on the others faces that it was a controversial statement.

“And I still disagree,” Cullen said. “The Templars could serve just as well.”

“We need power, Commander,” Cassandra told him. “Enough magic poured into that mark- “

“Might destroy us all,” Cullen interrupted with a shake of his head. “Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so- “

“Pure speculation,” Leliana then interrupted him.

It seemed they were busy talking over one another instead of listening to each other’s arguments. Jon accidently caught the gaze of the lady ambassador and by the resigned look on her face, she was thinking much the same.

“I was a Templar,” Cullen insisted. “I know what they’re capable of.”

“Unfortunately, neither group will speak to us yet,” Josephine said, taking advantage of the natural pause at the end of that statement to neatly make an argument of her own, and Jon was impressed by the casual way she defused the argument.

Diplomat, indeed.

“The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition,” Josephine declared before looking directly at Jon. “And you, specifically.”

Jon could appreciate her practicality. You could only tackle one problem at a time, of course. Although now the problem was the one he presented for their organization.

“Well, that was quick,” Jon said with a sigh, but expecting nothing less considering the way Chancellor Roderick had left them in a huff.

“Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?” Cullen complained.

“Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste’ and that frightens the Chantry,” Josephine said to Jon, seemingly ignoring Cullen’s complaint. “The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra scoffed, narrowing her eyes in distaste at the mere thought of the Chancellor whom she had nearly thrown out of the village.

“It limits our options,” Josephine said smoothly. “Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question.”

“I know this is probably a strange question to ask,” Jon began slowly. “But who exactly is ‘Andraste’?

“Wh-what?” Cullen said, looking startled. “What do you mean…”

Jon looked between all of their faces, Josephine looked just as shocked as Cullen, but Leliana and Cassandra seemed to be less so.

“I had wondered,” Leliana said softly. “When we first spoke, you said you were traveling North? Are you Avvar perhaps?”

“No,” Jon said, shaking his head. “I have no idea what that is either. Honestly, it feels like I only understand every other word that a person says here.”

“You told Varric you are not Fereldan,” Cassandra said. “Although it sounds like you are. Nor are you from the Free Marches.”

“And you cannot be from Orlais, Nevarra, Tevinter, or any other country north of the Free Marches,” Josephine wondered.

“No, I’m not from any of those places,” Jon said. “I’ve never heard of the Chantry before all of this. I have no idea how I arrived…here.”

“I had thought you meant Haven,” Cassandra said, her brow furrowed as she stared intently at him. “But you meant- our world?”

“Where do you think you are from then?” Leliana asked, skeptically.

“I don’t think, I know I’m from Westeros,” Jon told them.

“I’ve… never heard of such a place,” Josephine said, looking startled.

“Are you certain?” Cassandra asked him. “It is only that- you said you do not recall many things. Perhaps there are other problems with your memories?”

Jon stared at her, incredulous. How could he ever forget?

“My Lady,” he said, his voice terser than he would have liked. “Although I do not recall how I came to be here, I have no problems remembering where I’m from. I know who I am.”

“I meant no offense,” Cassandra sighed. “It is only… you must realize how it sounds.”

“I know,” Jon conceded. “But it’s the truth. I’m not sure how I came to be here, but I know nothing of the places you’ve named.”

“Perhaps it’s very far away?” Josephine suggested. “I imagine there are many things about the Fade we still know nothing about.”

“That leaves too much to speculation,” Cassandra protested.

“What other answer is there?” Jon asked. “I know of nothing that would bring me here. I’ve not heard of the Fade until now, mages in Westeros are myth, and magic a rare thing.”

“I’m not sure what to make of that,” Cassandra quietly. “Truly, you know nothing of the Maker?”

“No,” Jon said. “The gods of my home are the Old Gods, the nameless gods of the forest, worshipped by the Children of the Forest and the First Men. In the South, the Andals brought the Light of the Seven. The Iron Islands worship the Drowned God, in Essos there is the Red God, and I know there are the Gods of Old Valyria with many more besides. I have never heard of the Maker or Andraste or the Chantry.”

“You name all these places, but I have never heard of any of them,” Josephine said, bewildered. “That is- not something I experience very often.

“I am not so well travelled, my lady, to know all the lands and gods worshipped therein,” Jon told her. “But I have felt much the same all my time here.”

“This is strange,” Leliana admitted. “But it is a mystery we can solve right now. We hardly know what happened to cause the Breach- as for a situation such as this, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Perhaps we should seek the advice of Solas,” Josephine suggested. “He seems to be knowledgeable in matters concerning the Fade, and he is the only mage we have besides.”

“And still we must consider the fact that you are our only hope to seal the Breach for good,” Cassandra reminded them all.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jon sighed. “But I thought it did no good pretending to understand what you mean when you call me the Herald of someone I’ve never heard of.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Cassandra told him sincerely. “Whatever the truth of the matter, we are asking much of you with very little in return.”

“If you promise to help figure out how I came to be here,” Jon said. “And help me find a way back, I’ll consider it a fair trade.”

Cassandra nodded to him in approval, and Jon thought that it wasn’t so much of a hardship to help these people. They had been decent to him so far, despite many reasons not to, and they were more straight forward than Jon would think to expect of people not from the North.

“So, what now?” Jon asked now that he had revealed his secret. “Will the Chantry attack the inquisition now that they’ve decided it’s full of heretics?”

“With what?” Cullen scoffed. “They have only words at their disposal.”

“And yet,” Josephine argued politely. “They may bury us with them.”

“There is something you can do,” Leliana said, turning to Jon. “A Chantry Cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“Why would someone from the Chantry help someone they just denounced?” Jon asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“I understand she is a reasonable sort,” Leliana explained. “Perhaps she doesn’t agree with her sisters.”

Jon nodded thoughtfully. There might be some hope if their order weren’t all of one mind and someone with enough influence decided to support them.

“You’ll find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe,” Leliana told him and Cassandra.

“Look for other opportunities to expand the inquisition’s influence while you’re there,” Cullen added.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley,” Josephine said thoughtfully. “And you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options,” Cassandra said. “We cannot leave everything up to Jon.”

“Before you head out,” Josephine said as she scribbled a few notes down. “Perhaps it would be best to have an information session for Lord Jon about the major players he will encounter.”

“Agreed,” Leliana seconded. “You cannot go to Mother Giselle and not know any of the major beliefs of the Chantry. At the very least, you must know about Andraste.”

“Alright,” Jon said. “And I suppose I’ll bring up my situation with Solas- if he’s the best chance I have at figuring…everything out.”

“He may not have a solution for you,” Cassandra warned. “Certainly, I have never heard of such a thing happening before, but yes, Solas would be a good start.”

“And who knows?” Cullen said. “As the inquisition gathers more power and resources, we may be able to find someone who can help.”

“It’s a start,” Jon said.

“Meet me in my office later today,” Josephine told him. “I’ll draw up a list of important details to cover then.”

“And on the morrow, we head to the Hinterlands,” Cassandra said.

She turned as she said this and left the War Room. Jon was a little startled by her abrupt departure but judging by the reactions of the others- particularly Cullen’s fond shake of his head- Jon supposed it was in line with her usual behavior. Something he was not entirely surprised by if he was honest.

And so, Jon nodded to the others and left the Chantry after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the prologue is basically done at this point. Jon is still trying to figure out what's going on, and next up he'll be exploring Haven a little bit before heading out to the Hinterlands. I'm not a hundred percent happy with this chapter so I might go back and change a thing or two. We'll see.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed, I appreciate you guys and I'll see you next week~


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a few conversations. And you know, learns how deep the shit he's standing in is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: About Jon's age. So I've decided to go with the TV show on this one. If only because I like to think of Jon being more of an adult, at 17 or so, when the events of Game of Thrones take place rather than the book age of 13-14. I've also calculated the passage of time as the number of seasons so, 8 seasons = 8 years and I'm placing Jon at 25 by the season finale. Some lazy math right there. 
> 
> Otherwise, for most things I'll be referencing the books except for the events that happened after Dance of Dragons.

‘Now where do I find Solas?’ was the thought running through Jon’s head since he hadn’t thought to ask anyone where to find him. After a few moments of deliberation and ignoring the gentle whispers that seemed to follow him about the village, he decided to head in the direction of ‘his’ cabin. It was a path he had taken three times already, so it was unlikely he would lose his way, and he could keep his eyes open for a familiar face along the way.

With that in mind, he passed the tents set up directly in front of the chantry, only pausing to nod in their direction when someone caught his eye.

Solas was nowhere in sight as Jon walked down a set of stairs, but out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a different but equally welcome face.

“Varric!” Jon called a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Jon Snow,” Varric said, returning the smile. “Awake and charming the whole of Haven into heresy.”

Jon barked out a laugh and shook his head as he joined Varric by the campfire.

“Now that Cassandra’s out of ear shot,” Varric continued. “Are you holding up all right? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

“It’s fine,” Jon said. “I suppose I’m just glad to still be alive after all of that.”

“I still can’t believe you survived Cassandra,” Varric joked. “You’re lucky that you were out cold for most of her frothing rage.”

“I was awake for some of it,” Jon chuckled. “Luckily, it was directed at Chancellor Roderick.”

“Yeah,” Varric said. “He hightailed it out of Haven pretty quickly. I can imagine how that went.”

“It was terrifying,” Jon confirmed.

Varric shook his head, staring into the distance toward the Breach, before saying, “For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“Aye, I’m still not sure I believe that any of this is really happening,” Jon said.

“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there’s a damn good punch line coming,” Varric joked.

“I doubt it,” Jon said, a little more severely than he had intended, and he sighed, grimacing.

“You might want to consider running at the first opportunity,” Varric advised. “I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

“I really don’t have much a choice,” Jon told him. “I- Varric.”

“Yeah, Charmer?” he said, arms crossed as he looked at him questioningly.

“I need to find Solas,” Jon said. “And what I have to tell him- and ask of him- it might be best for you to hear as well.”

“Is this about how I can’t seem to peg your accent?” Varric asked knowingly. “You’re a good kid, Charmer, but something’s a little off about you too. Can’t quite put my finger on it though.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Jon said with a shrug. “I’m just not sure if I can tell you without sounding mad.”

“Well, we might all be mad here,” Varric said. “Comes with the close proximity to the hole in the sky spewing demons. Chuckles likes to hang out on that hill over by the apothecary. We can grab him and have a drink at the tavern, how’s that sound?”

“That sounds good,” Jon said with a nod, following the other man.

The location was close by, Jon would have found it himself if he had made a left instead of a right when leaving the Chantry, but he was happy to have a guide either way. He didn’t know if it was the extreme circumstances the people Haven found themselves in, but many seemed to be lacking in basic courtesies.

The only exceptions to this he had experienced so far was Varric, Solas and Josephine. They were the only ones who had bothered introducing themselves at first meeting. Now he had been left to wander the village without any form of guidance. Even Northmen would have arranged a tour for their guests instead of having them amble about aimlessly. It was poor manners for any type of guest. Or prisoner.

Varric led him around the outside of the tavern, pointing it out to him. They continued past it and walked up to a trio of cabins. Thankfully, Solas was standing outside the one to their right as they climbed the steps.

“The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all,” Solas said once he caught sight of Jon. “And Varric.”

“I like how you just tacked that on at the end there,” Varric said, standing in front of Solas with his arms crossed.

“Solas,” Jon greeted. “I wouldn’t call myself a hero, just want to take care of… all this.”

He waved in the general direction of the breach with his marked hand.

“Fair enough,” Solas said slowly, looking between the two. “What brings you here Master Tethras, Jon Snow?”

“Perhaps it’s something best said indoors,” Jon suggested. “It might take some time. I’ve something to tell you- and I’d like your advice, if possible.”

“Certainly,” Solas said, curiously before turning to the cabin behind him. “Come inside.”

“I thought we might head to the tavern, Chuckles,” Varric said quickly. “Sounds like it might be something heavy, could use a drink.”

“On the contrary, I find that giving advice is best done whilst sober,” Solas said with an arch tone.

“Well, he must not give good advice,” Varric said to Jon, ignoring Solas entirely.

Jon ducked his head as he followed the two inside, trying not to laugh. This was going to be an interesting conversation to say the least.

They sat themselves down on the few chairs that were available, settled in the middle of the floor as the desk and tables were filled with a wide variety of produce, books and other odds and ends.

“So, what did you want to tell us, Charmer?” Varric asked once they sat comfortably in a sort of circle.

“Indeed,” Solas said. “I’m curious as to why you felt the need to speak with us privately.”

Varric and Solas were sitting closer together, almost but not quite facing Jon directly. He didn’t think they had done so on purpose, but it made sense. He was the one who had brought them here to tell them something and had best get on with it.

“It might sound mad,” Jon warned them, feeling uneasy. “But I suppose there’s no hiding it- I have no memory of how I came to be here- to Haven or the Conclave.”

“…yes, you’ve told us as much,” Solas said slowly, waiting for Jon to get to the point. “You said you could not remember the Conclave nor how you received the mark on your hand.”

“Aye, and that much is still true,” Jon said. “But I don’t remember how I got _here_ in the first place. You say you cannot place me in any of the countries here, and the truth is... until I woke up in Haven after the breach, I had never heard of demons, chantries, the fade, or any other place or person anyone has expected me to know.”

“So, what, you’ve got amnesia?” Varric asked, looking concerned. “Shit, you’re worse off than I thought. You should have said you don’t remember anything at all.”

“No, that’s not it,” Solas said, looking at him now with a curiosity so intense Jon thought he might burn from it. “You know yourself, but you have no knowledge of anything else. You’re not of this world…are you, Jon Snow?”

“I- I don’t think so,” Jon confirmed, looking at Solas and then Varric before looking to the ground. “I know who I am, I know where I’m from…and it’s not here.”

“Very curious,” Solas said, his gaze heavy. “And you want to ask me my advice about how this might have come about?”

“Aye, you’re the only one I can ask,” Jon said honestly. “I know nothing of how I might have gotten here.”

“This world that you come from…” Solas began to say.

“Wait, you think he’s telling the truth?” Varric asked Solas incredulously.

“You think that I’m lying?” Jon asked him directly, not hurt by his disbelief, but he’d hoped Varric wouldn’t accuse him of being dishonest.

“I-” Varric broke off with a sigh. “It’s not that, it’s just pretty unbelievable? I mean, the hole in the sky is bad enough, but this?”

“I understand how you feel, Varric,” Solas said, turning his head to lock onto Varric with his stare instead. “But I believe it to be entirely possible. The fade holds mysteries yet unknown to us.”

“What exactly… _is_ the Fade?” Jon couldn’t help but ask.

It has been a question constantly being shoved to the top of his mental list of questions especially since everyone seemed impressed that he’d stepped out of it. And this somehow led to him becoming the Herald of Andraste.

“And what do you believe?” Jon asked.

“I believe that there is more to the world than meets the eye,” Solas said diplomatically. “Spirits and demons are not as different as most would lead you to believe. However, regardless to how the world was formed, humans, elves, and qunari visit the world of the Fade in their dreams. Due to their stronger connection to the Fade, Mages can draw from it and use magic.”

“Dwarves don’t have any ‘connection’ to the Fade,” Varric said. “Just so you know. No creepy demon dreams for us.”

Solas rolled his eyes at the dwarf, Jon felt as if this was something the two of them had already discussed before.

“Do I have… a connection?” Jon asked, genuinely curious. 

He had never heard of the Fade before, and he was pretty sure that it wasn’t something that existed back home, but he did dream. In fact, he’d had several since arriving in Thedas and they hadn’t felt any different than normal.

“You are a curious case, that is true,” Solas said thoughtfully, turning back toward Jon. “While at first, I had thought you were a non-mage human who was particularly cut off from the Fade, it now becomes clear to me that you are something else entirely. Where you come from, is there magic?”

Jon thought for a moment, turning his head to stare into the lit fireplace, the shadows in the room growing and shrinking by the flickering flames. He thought of R’hllor, of Bran and the Night’s King, wights… and the dragons.

House Targaryen. Old Valyria. 

“There’s magic,” Jon said after a moment. “It’s not the same, but it’s there. We… just don’t have the Fade. The magic in the world… my world. It flickers, like a flame. Sometimes it is weaker, but… especially in the last decade, it has grown stronger. Creatures and beasts thought to be legend reappeared. Abilities and spells thought to be fantasy I witnessed with my own eyes.”

Solas and Varric said nothing, but he could feel the weight of their attention on him. Perhaps they had found themselves in the same situation as he had. Answers sought only yielded more questions.

Jon turned his dark gaze back to the elf and the dwarf. Now it seemed that legends and fantasies he had never thought up or heard of were appearing before him.

“I’m not gonna lie, kid,” Varric said slowly. “You’ve piqued my interest. I feel like you have some stories I want to hear.”

“Another time maybe,” Jon said, clasping his gloved hands and looking into the palms of his hands as if they might hold the answers to all his problems.

“Yes, another time,” Solas echoed. “Now, I believe you began this conversation asking for my advice? I assume it wasn’t only to discuss the Fade.”

“I had thought to ask…” Jon began, wondering if he wasn’t just getting his hopes up. “If you might know of a way back? To my home?”

Solas sighed, his lips pinched as he looked a way and out the window. Jon realized he was looking at the tear in the sky. The glowing green that must be the Fade.

“I’ll admit this is beyond the scope of my experience,” Solas told him after a moment. “History echoes through the Fade, and I have learned much about the world studying it. But never in my wanderings through the Fade have I seen anything like this.”

“I see,” Jon said softly, realizing it had been improbable to have a solution to his problems so easily given to him.

“But that’s not to say it doesn’t exist,” Solas told him matter-of-factly. “Beyond all reason, you came through the Fade to Thedas. There must be evidence of it somewhere. I fully believe we can piece the puzzle back together again.”

“Well, it’ll be easy to go hunting for puzzle pieces when we have the hole in the sky healed and demons aren’t raining down on us,” Varric said pointedly, gesturing to the faintly glowing mark on Jon’s hand.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jon said wryly. “I have duties in my own world. But I would not leave Thedas to its fate when I hold its salvation in my hand.”

“Quite literally in this case,” Solas said with a small smile. “But perhaps that’s enough for now. I imagine there are many others you must seek out before you leave. Indeed, there are great gaps in your knowledge that you cannot learn from the two of us.”

“Yes, I am meant to seek out Lady Montilyet later in the evening,” Jon confessed. “Tomorrow we are heading to meet one of these Chantry…Mothers? Sisters?”

“Mother Giselle,” Varric said shrewdly. “I’ve had some of my sources look into the whole Chantry situation. And… uh, it’s not good. She’s the only one who hasn’t lost her head in all this chaos.”

“A good quality to have in an ally,” Solas commented. “And it would be best to understand the difference between the clergy before meeting with them.”

The elf said this with some amusement, and Varric coughed suspiciously into his hand, prompting Jon to roll his eyes himself with a huff.

“Yes, I know nothing,” Jon said, sitting back and sighing as he stroked a hand over his beard.

“Well, I won’t go that far, Charmer,” Varric said jokingly. “Everyone knows a little something. You’ve just got more catching up to do than most.”

“Story of my life, really,” Jon said with a real smile this time.

Jon left the two in Solas’ small dwelling. It was about time he visited Josephine and he thought the two of them would want a chance to talk over what he had told them besides. It didn’t take long to wind his way back to the Chantry through the small path behind one of the cabins. He pushed open the heavy, ornate wooden door and stepped into the dim lighting of the stone hall.

The glow of the candles scattered about the room and the torches on the wall cast eerie shadows and the whispers of prayer echoed almost endlessly. He walked slowly to the back of the long hall, trying not to disturb any of the faithful, and caught sight of Lady Josephine through an open door in the room to the left. Jon hesitated outside of the room for a moment, his clenched fist hovering an inch away from her door. She was heavily engrossed in her work, the feather of her pen flicking back and forth and the sizeable stack of paper at her elbow a testament to her steadfast efforts in the past hour or so since he’d seen her last.

Jon knocked gently on the door when she seemed to have finished her latest letter.

“Lady Josephine, are you available?” Jon said, wincing slightly at his wooden tone.

The lady ambassador raised her head and gave him a warm smile. She set down the pen and rose gracefully from her seat.

“Lord Snow,” she greeted him with a small bow. “Please, have a seat. Your timing is impeccable, I’ve just finished my first batch of letters and had planned to seek you out. Did you manage to speak with Solas?”

“I- yes,” Jon said sitting down in the chair in front of her heavy wooden desk. “He finds my… situation plausible, but unusual.”

Josephine sat down after he did, settling herself down in her impressively ruffled dress, as she considered his answer carefully.

“I suppose that might be the best answer we might receive at the moment,” Josephine said delicately. “It is good that he can believe what happened is possible.”

“Good that he doesn’t think me raving mad?” Jon said with a smile.

“Yes, certainly,” she said with a laugh and a smile of her own. “And have you learned anything else from him? If you are unfamiliar with Mages or magic, he would be the best source of information.”

“We spoke of the matter,” Jon said, shifting in his chair. “I will admit, I have more questions now than I had before, but Solas explained to me some about the Fade and mages.”

“The Fade and mages?” Josephine repeated, a small wrinkle forming between her eyes. “That is… vague. Did he say anything of mages and the chantry or the mage rebellion?”

“No,” Jon said bluntly. “We spoke of magic and my own world, but not much else.”

“I see,” she said, looking a little frustrated. “I don’t believe we can teach you everything you need to know before you meet Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands, there simply isn’t enough time, but… I cannot in good conscience let you leave without understanding the political storm you find yourself at the center of.”

“I see…” Jon said slowly. “I would appreciate whatever advice or information you’re willing to give me, Lady Montilyet.”

“Well, it would be best to start off with the mages and their role… what was their role in the chantry,” Josephine began slowly and thoughtfully. “It is what led to the mage rebellion, after all, and that led us to the unfortunate events at the Conclave the other day.”

“The Chantry are leaders of your religion?” Jon asked, starting with the information he knew. “And the Maker is your god, Andraste being…”

“Andraste is the bride of the Maker,” Josephine explained, not exactly clearing up Jon’s confusion. “She is our prophet, a former slave of the Tevinter Imperium whose followers spread her teachings to the faithful after her execution.”

“And people believe that I’m her Herald?” Jon asked incredulously. “Why?”

“Some say that they saw the figure of a woman behind you after you emerged from the Fade, a place where no mortal has been before,” Josephine told him. “And you hold the key to our salvation- many believe that you were sent by Andraste to save us in our time of need.”

“I see,” Jon said, not sure if he truly did or not, but perhaps he understood the awe of the smallfolk outside. “And the mages?”

“Tevinter was an empire that spread across nearly the entirety of Thedas at the height of its power,” Josephine explained patiently, her hands delicately folded in her lap as if she was a lady reciting her lessons to her Septa. “It is still mostly known for its cruelties- slavery, blood magic, the blights- and it is run entirely by Mage nobility.”

“Andraste freed many different peoples from their rule in the first Exalted March before her death, but many still fear magic. The Chantry created the Circle of Magi- sanctuaries where mages are gathered in order to learn. The Templars guard the mages and the people from Maleficar and bring apostates to the Circles for protection,” Josephine finished.

Jon said nothing at this, staring into the distance as he remembered that Solas had been called “apostate” more than once in his presence. ‘Gathering’ and ‘protection’ sounded more than suspicious in his mind concerning the welfare of people who were feared by the general population.

“And the rebellion?” Jon asked. “You said the Conclave that gathered here was because of it.”

“Yes, the mages… well, to be entirely honest, not every Circle is very…” Josephine paused delicately. “Concerned with the welfare of their mages. In Kirkwall, a city-state of the Free Marches, it was especially true. One of the mages blew up the Chantry in a time of great tension and well…”

“Rebellion,” Jon finished for her.

“Yes,” Josephine sighed. “Divine Justinia, the head of the Chantry, created the Conclave to quell the fighting between the rebelling factions. For when the Mages left the Chantry, so too did the Templars in order to fight them. They gathered here to work out their differences. But now they are all gone.”

“And that ended any chance of peace between them,” Jon finished for her. “All their leaders were killed, and neither side has any idea what happened.”

“Precisely,” Josephine said with a satisfied nod. “But I do not believe it is without hope. The Chantry will not listen to us _yet._ ”

Josephine leaned toward Jon, her hands clasped gently at the edge of her desk as she looked at him earnestly. Her eyes intense and expectant.

“That is why it is so important to speak to Mother Giselle,” she insisted. “She is one of the only senior members of the Chantry left…and she is the only one trying to help those suffering the effects of the rebellion and not in Val Royeaux arguing about the succession.”

“If we can bring her to our side,” Jon concluded for her. “It will convince the rest of the Chantry that we are working in their best interest.”

“Precisely, although I’m afraid it will not be so simple,” Josephine said, shaking her head and picking up her pen once more with a heavy sigh.

“I understand,” Jon agreed solemnly. “In times of great need, people often act in their own immediate self-interests rather than in the best interests of everyone.”

“I sense that you have some experience in this,” Josephine said thoughtfully as she twirled the feather pen between her fingers. “I hope this means we might resolve the conflict more swiftly. Cassandra and Leliana mean well, but I do wonder if they are aware one can occasionally use diplomacy before threatening a person with violence.”

Jon’s own laughter caught him by surprise. Cassandra was honest and just, but in the short time Jon had known her 'diplomatic' was not a word he would think to attach to her name. Leliana he was less familiar with, but that she was their spymaster immediately made her seem more ruthlessness in his mind than she would have otherwise.

“In all honesty,” Jon began, looking at the tapestry on the wall for a moment instead of looking at the lady. “I’m tired. Of fighting, of a lot of things. I’ve been through more than a few battles… a few wars, and I had thought before I came here that I was finally free of it.”

Josephine didn’t say anything to this, but Jon felt her gaze on his face. His eyes drifted once more toward her, and he grimaced to see the sympathy written clearly on her face.

“However, I’ve never ran away from duty,” Jon assured her. “I’ll do what needs to be done, and I’ll do it without carelessly endangering anyone’s life if I can, regardless of how I feel.”

“I believe that, Lord Snow” Josephine said quietly, her voice soft. “I simply regret that you have no choice but to help us. You are… might I ask your age?”

“I’ll be five-and-twenty soon,” Jon told her.

A flash of emotion flickered across her face, something almost stricken.

“You’re younger than I thought,” Josephine said, recovering with a laugh. “And here I thought I was the youngest in the Inquisition at twenty-nine.”

Jon shrugged; age had ceased to matter to him long ago. Age was no guarantee of competence in his experience.

“And who’s the oldest?” Jon asked with a smile.

“Varric, I should think,” Josephine said thoughtfully. “Although it might honestly be Solas, I’ve no idea how old he is. Varric, I know, just turned forty-one if his biography is to be believed.”

“I’ll let you ask them,” Jon said and was pleased to receive a laugh in return. “And I’ll leave you to your work, my lady.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Josephine said playfully with a graceful dip of her head. “Best of luck in the Hinterlands if I do not see you before you embark.”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely as he stood from his seat. “And thank you for explaining the matter of the rebellion and the chantry to me.”

“It was no bother,” Josephine insisted. “And do not thank me, I fear I did not give you explanation enough.”

“Nevertheless,” Jon said with another polite nod.

Jon turned from her desk and left her office, leaving the chantry behind him. He might as well find some food and some rest before they left to find this Chantry Mother.

“I take it you spoke to Ruffles?" 

Jon turned his head toward the familiar sound of Varric’s voice and smiled at the man- well, dwarf- who had migrated back to his campfire. This time Varric was sitting next to the fire, his own correspondence in a pile on his lap. Jon felt a pang in his chest when he realized there was no one in this world he could write a letter to.

“I- yes,” Jon said as he swerved from the path leading to the cabin he was beginning to think of as his. “Lady Montilyet spoke with me. There was… a lot to discuss." 

“I can imagine,” Varric chuckled warmly as he folded and tucked his stack of letters into his coat’s interior pocket. “I know I asked before, but I think recent revelations are compelling me to ask one more time… how are you holding up, kid?”

Jon looked at the pulsing green vortex swirling in the distance, flashes of green lightning becoming more and more noticeable as the sun began to set behind the mountain range.

“I-“Jon began, “ I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it too much, if I’m to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” Varric said thoughtfully. “It’d be bad enough with all the demons and the Breach, never mind being transported to another world.”

Jon shrugged, looking into the fire for a moment before realizing it wasn’t making him feel any better, and turned his gaze back to Varric.

“Well, I promised you a drink earlier, didn’t I?” Varric said with a smirk as he pointed a thumb back at the tavern behind him. “What do you say? We’ll get you something to eat while we’re at it. Nothing to write home about, of course, but it’ll be hot and better than nothing.”

“I’m not picky,” Jon said. “And- yes, I’d like that.”

The next morning Jon felt a migraine pressing against his temples. Perhaps he’d had one too many ales in the tavern the night before, but Varric had insisted on treating him, and then a few of the tavern patrons had insisted on treating him once they realized the ‘Herald’ was amongst them. It had all devolved quickly from there 

“How we doing, kid?” Varric asked with a knowing smile on his lips as he tugged his sturdy grey pony up next to Jon and the black palfrey he’d been given.

“Fine,” Jon croaked and cleared his throat trying to ignore the chuckling coming from beside him.

“I see you enjoyed yourself the night before.”

Jon turned his head at the sound of Solas’ voice. The elf was patting his calico-patterned horse delicately as he fed it a carrot.

“It’s a few days ride to the Hinterlands, I hope you’ll be up to the task,” Solas said in a way that should have been condescending but wasn’t.

He was very good at that.

“I’m fine,” Jon said again more firmly, tugging on the straps and buckles of his saddle.

“Enough chatting,” Cassandra called, riding up to them from the seat of her dusky grey destrier. “We should leave immediately; we have lost enough time already.”

Varric rolled his eyes at the seeker and sighed as he hefted himself up onto the back of his pony.

“I’m not a very traditional dwarf, but I’ve got to say, I prefer having both feet on the ground,” Varric complained as he patted the pony on the neck. “Nothing personal, dear.”

“I said enough chatting, Varric,” Cassandra said waspishly, narrowing her eyes at him.

Jon and Solas had mounted their own steeds in the meanwhile, and Jon had nudged his horse up the road where Cassandra was waiting.

“Let’s go,” Jon said glancing up at the sky. “Time to speak to Mother Giselle, I suppose.”

“Among other things,” Cassandra added but with a grateful nod of her head. “Our soldiers stationed in the Hinterlands have had much to report. I would not be surprised if we were occupied for some time once we arrive there.”

“Then it seems we have no time to lose,” Solas joined in. “Lead the way, Lady Cassandra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer. I'd really wanted to make it to Mother Giselle but more and more things kept popping up. I've also learned that I really love writing Varric. He's also just flat out one of my favorite characters, can you tell?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the comments and kudos guys, I can feel the love T.T


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes it to the Hinterlands and gets a taste of the sheer amount of *things* that need to be done there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's been a little bit since the last update, but I'm not dead, I swear! 
> 
> For anyone who's interested, I was job searching/started a new job, but I'm settled finally and have some more free time. Also, I've been replaying & recording DA:I for reference, so that's been taking some time too. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank all the people who left kudos/commented! It's always a great motivator to know people enjoy what you're putting out there. I answered some questions in the comments, and just for the sake of keeping everyone on the same page about the story, I'm going to re-answer them here:
> 
> 1\. Sorry, Dany's not going to be showing up. She's super dead.   
> 2\. Ghost is a maybe. If he does, he won't be showing up for some time.  
> 3\. Romance? Well, Jon's been through a lot, but maybe. Don't place your bets though, it's not the point of the story.  
> 4\. Dragons? SOON-ish. There will be dragons though, don't worry. No Drogon though.  
> 5\. Other GoT characters? Probably not. I'm going to be 99% focusing on Jon in this story of the GoT characters. Sorry if you were hoping someone was going to randomly pop in.
> 
> I started writing this story because I really wanted to have the game play experience of DA:I melded with the more realistic fantasy world of GoT. And Jon Snow is a guy who really deserves a second chance at life which hopefully he'll get with some competent friends helping him out.

"So, Charmer, you're from, uh, Westeros, right?" Varric asked, looking up from poking at the remains of his stew. 

They were speaking quietly around the campfire. Solas had gone to sleep and Cassandra had wandered off to collect more firewood. Jon suspected she wanted time to herself after a full day of travel. Or, more importantly, time away from Varric. 

"Yes," Jon answered carefully, wondering why the dwarf was asking this question now instead of when they'd been in Haven. 

"Care to tell me more about it?" Varric asked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"You believe me then?" Jon asked, turning his head as he smiled. 

"Well, it’s hard to say," Varric answered truthfully. "You have to admit it's a little hard to believe. A little hard to prove too, might I add. But I figure, the more I hear you talk about it, the better I can decide whether or not to really believe you. So how about it, tell me a story, Charmer."

Jon stared into the fire thoughtfully, attempting to push away the stray thoughts spiraling round and round his head at the sight. What kind of story could he tell? It seemed he had been trapped by fate and his story was one of Fire and Blood. The destruction of King’s Landing. There was his resurrection at the hand of the red priestess. There was his betrayal of Ygritte. His betrayal of Dany. 

"What do you want to know," Jon said hollowly after a few long moments, finally dragging his gaze from the fire to look over at Varric who was watching him carefully.

"Well, where are you from, for a start?" Varric asked. "Got any family? Pets? A job?"

"I'm from the North," Jon said with a shrug. "It's the largest of the seven kingdoms in Westeros."

"The North, huh?" Varric said thoughtfully, setting down his empty bowl. "Not a very imaginative name, is it? So, you grew up in the North?"

"Yes," Jon said. "I… grew up in Winterfell. It’s the largest, most ancient stronghold in the North. Seat to House Stark."

"Okay, sounds interesting. Very, uh, historical...and your family?" Varric asked carefully. "…I understand if that's a little too personal. We all have things we'd rather not talk about, but-"

"It's complicated," Jon admitted softly, shrugging again. "Most of them are dead now."

"Ah," Varric said with a wince. "Well, don't mind me being pushy then-"

"No, it's alright," Jon said, not actually sure if it was really alright but wanting to continue anyway.

"I- I had five siblings," Jon said. "Three brothers, two sisters."

Varric whistled, eyebrows jumping up to his hairline in amazement.

"And here I am with just the one brother, and I thought he was too much," Varric said with a soft smile. "And where were you in all this? I'm guessing middle of the bunch, age-wise."

"No," Jon snorted. "I was the second oldest. My older brother, Robb, he was… he was my best friend. My little sisters, Sansa and Arya, are like night and day. Fought like mad when they were younger. Bran… Brandon was after them, and then little Rickon was the youngest."

"And… " Varric said, looking like he didn't want to ask, but might still. 

"Robb died…gods, years ago now," Jon told him looking into the distance as he realized how much time had passed since he’d heard word of the Red Wedding. "And Rickon- that was-"

Jon couldn't bring himself to say anything else about Rickon. It was more than he could bear, thinking about the battle for Winterfell and the Boltons. How could he even begin to explain it to someone who couldn't even locate Winterfell on a map.

"It never gets easier, does it?" Varric said with a sad expression on his face.

“No, it doesn’t,” Jon said. “It feels like once I’ve endured to the point that I can bear it no more, fate finds new ways to test me.”

“Yeah, fate’s a bitch like that sometimes,” Varric joked. “And, not to sound cheap or anything, but I get what you mean. The world doesn’t seem to stop even if you’ve had enough.”

Jon looked down at his clasped hands, pretending not to see the glowing green mark, and thought Varric could understand.

“Well, I think that’s enough for tonight,” Varric said, scraping the rest of his dinner into the fire. “I’m going to get ready to go to sleep before Cassandra gets back. Do us both a favor, really.”

“Sleep well,” Jon told him as Varric passed and the dwarf gave him a friendly pat on the back. 

Jon stared up at the sky after Varric had disappeared inside his tent. The constellations were alien to him, but the night sky was full of stars just the same, and he drew what comfort he could from that thought.

“I’m just saying, Seeker,” Varric goaded. “We should take him shopping when we go to Val Royeaux. The kid can’t go around in the same drab outfit all the time. No offense, Charmer.” 

“None taken,” Jon said with a chuckle as he led his horse at a steady trot next to Solas. 

“There are more important things than clothes at the moment, Varric,” Cassandra said with less spite than she would normally, but Jon thought even she might have been tired of the constant sniping between her and Varric after three days on the road. “I would think that would be obvious.” 

“Appearance is important,” Varric said with a mocking tone of authority. 

“Perhaps we can leave the issue for another time,” Solas said diplomatically, nodding at the path ahead where an inquisition soldier was waiting at the pass. “It seems we have arrived.” 

Solas and Jon spared a moment to share a look. It was exhausting to mediate between the two and they’d been suffering together long enough to be able to speak without sharing words. A true bonding experience, Jon thought to himself jokingly. 

“Good,” Cassandra said, urging her horse forward. “They will lead us to the main camp, and we can find Mother Giselle.” 

Jon followed Cassandra to the inquisition soldiers, and they made their way through the winding roads and hills of the land called the Hinterlands. It was pleasant, if you ignored the obvious signs of violence and conflict. Fires in the distance, empty and damaged homes, and all the hungry small folk who huddled together in clusters as they traveled. All of them heading into the crossroads where a Chantry Mother was giving aid to the wounded.

Jon could see how pleasant the land could be when not in strife. Despite the claims of winter closing in by the people, Jon saw that the land was still mostly green and lush with plenty of wild game, fully stocked rivers, and vegetation. Once the fighting was quelled, the people in the area would have plenty to stock up on for the winter if they were careful about it.

The land around Haven was less abundant in natural bounty, but the mountain passes were remarkably clear for all that, and if it didn’t get much worse, they would be able to survive the coming season. Jon made a mental note to ask Lady Josephine how they were preparing. It would be his luck that he just made it through winter in Westeros and managed to find himself in the middle of a winter in Thedas. If the gods were good- or perhaps the Maker- it would be a short one.

Before long they had climbed up to a securely located camp at the top of a steep bluff. They settled in at the encampment, the horses they left with an Inquisition outpost a good distance away from the fighting.

“Herald of Andraste,” a petite red-haired woman greeted him; Jon suspected she might be another dwarf. “I’ve heard the stories, everyone has. We know what you did at the breach. It’s an honor to meet you, my lord. Inquisition Scout Harding at your service.”

“Well met, Scout Harding,” Jon said with a nod.

“Harding, huh?” Varric said from his position behind Jon. “Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?”

Jon turned his head to raise a brow in the other dwarf’s direction and took note of the pleased smirk on his face.

“I can’t say that I have, why?” Harding asked, looking neither puzzled nor curious, only matter-of-fact.

“You’d be Harding in- no, ah, never mind,” Varric said, cutting himself off before he could continue, shaking his head.

“Ugh,” Cassandra scoffed in disgust. 

“What do you have to report, Scout Harding?” Jon asked quickly, thinking it was best to cut off any argument before it could begin. 

“The situation’s pretty dire,” Harding reported. “We came to secure horses from Redcliff’s old Horsemaster. I grew up here and people always said that Dennet’s herds were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the Mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive.”

“And Mother Giselle?” Jon asked cautiously, wondering if they were already too late and the most important part of their mission here in the Hinterlands.

“She’s down in the crossroads helping refugees and the wounded still,” Harding replied. “Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect people but they won’t be able to hold out very long.”

“We’ll head down there now,” Jon told her.

Harding nodded, the tension in her face relaxing just slightly at Jon’s response.

“I won’t keep you,” Harding told them, stepping away from them. “Good luck out there.”

Jon thanked her and walked toward the cliff overseeing the crossroads below them. Jon heard the rest of the group scatter, each collecting or gathering what they needed to make the trip down below. 

“Ser, do you have a moment, this may interest you,” a soldier approached him in the clearing, hands clasped nervously in front of them. 

“In a moment,” Jon said absently, moving closer to the view down below, mindful of the flimsy wooden fence that had been erected for safety. 

“Of course,” they said quickly, moving back toward the camp.

Jon craned his head to see over edge to the road down below, matching it up to the image he had in his head of the area. He had been lucky enough to get a chance to study the map Cassandra brought the night before. There were fires raging and fighting visible down below. Jon wondered if their forces had made it down there yet or not. 

“Soldier,” Jon called, turning away from the scene and marching back up to the main encampment. 

The Inquisition soldier in question perked up from their slouch and scurried to follow him. 

“Ser,” they said quickly, saluting sloppily. 

“Do you know what’s being done with the bodies?” Jon asked plainly, thinking of the many corpses they had passed on their journey and the ones surely being created at the Crossroads as they spoke. 

“I-ser?” the soldier- a woman, Jon thought- looked confused by the question. “The bodies?”

“Yes, the bodies,” Jon said patiently. “There’s been more than I can count between the fighting here and… well, Haven. Is there anything being done to recover them? Find out who they are to contact their families?”

“Not that I know of, ser,” the soldier said slowly. “I’m the requisition officer of the camp… I don’t know who might be, I mean, if there is anyone in charge of that.”

“Find out then,” Jon said. “We can’t leave them there, and it seems no one else can be bothered. Disease will spread soon enough if it’s not dealt with.”

“I- yes, ser,” the requisition officer said shakily, blinking very quickly like they were trying to think of what to do. 

“You’ll think of something,” Jon said as reassuringly as he could and patted them on the arm. 

“But ser, the requisition!” they called out to him as he moved to step away.

“Yes?” Jon questioned with some impatience coloring his voice. “What is it then?”

“We need to collect iron and onyx ores in the area,” the officer told him.

Jon waited for them to continue, “And…?”

“And… we need someone to go out and collect them?” the officer repeated, looking confused once again.

“Alright… I can mark them on a map,” Jon said after a moment of silence. “Find two other soldiers to go collect the ore and bring it back to the camp. Make sure they’re also aware that they’ll be needed for collecting the bodies as well.”

“I- yes, ser,” the soldier confirmed, saluting once more. “Shall I find you a map to mark the locations?”

“I’ll do that when I return,” Jon said, looking to the distance to see Cassandra waiting impatiently with Solas and Varric at the entrance to the camp. 

“Another time then,” they saluted again. 

The officer walked off to a group of soldiers drilling, hopefully to find some volunteers. Jon shook his head and walked at a brisk pace to the rest of the group.

“If you are ready?” Cassandra asked, her expression stern as she crossed her arms impatiently. 

“Yes, let’s set off,” Jon told her, gesturing to the road ahead. “I had a word with our requisition officer. Keep an eye out for any metal ores, apparently we need them.”

“I see…” Cassandra said thoughtfully, the furrow between her brow softening somewhat. “I do not have anything to mark the locations down…”

“I’ve got you covered, Seeker,” Varric reassured her. “One of the benefits of traveling with a writer, I’ve always got a spare bit of paper on me.”

“Then let us make our way to Mother Giselle,” Solas interrupted, a single brow raised in their direction. “I fear we may be too late if we wait any longer.”

“Agreed,” Jon said, and they took the winding road down and around the hilltop the camp was situated on. 

The farther they traveled down the path, the louder the commotion near the Crossroads became. Jon caught a flicker of green light in the distance- another rift to take care of before their return to Haven- and the party went down the right fork in the road, passing the slain where they were laid in piles. Jon grimly ignored them for now and drew his blade. 

“Mother Giselle should be somewhere nearby,” Solas told him calmly as he drew his own staff, Varric and Cassandra doing the same with their own weapons. 

As they turned the corner and caught sight of unnatural columns of ice. Jon realized after a moment that there were men encased inside, clearly dead, and they picked up their pace. 

“Inquisitions forces!” Cassandra called as she took the lead. “They’re trying to protect the refugees!” 

“Looks like they could use a hand,” Varric chimed in. 

Jon saw the forces, if it could be called that, taking cover behind wooden crates. Two archers were firing at the heavily armored templars that were attacking two other Inquisition soldiers. Varric quickly took position to help cover the soldiers with the archers, and Solas wasted little time covering them with the Barrier spell that Jon was learning to love. Especially now that they were fighting against opponents who would mostly likely have their own archers firing back at them. 

Cassandra charged with a mighty bellow, slamming into the Templar with her shield to destabilize his footing. 

“Hold!” she said sternly as she caught the Templar's blow with her own sword and deflected it. “We are not apostates.”

The Templar ignored her, charging again his face bloody and grim behind his helm. 

“I do not think they care, Seeker!” Solas called to her as he cast spells at the two Templars in the distance. 

Jon helped the inquisition forces with their targets, coming from behind to hamstring the mad Templar with his sword. Together the group worked tirelessly to wear them down, and they turned to the next targets a short distance away. 

A mage was positioned safely behind two warriors with short swords. They were met by the Inquisition soldiers who had led the charge to the targets. Before Jon could blink, the apostate mage caught one of their own in a trap and the man was quickly encased in ice.

“We are not Templars,” Solas shouted to the other mage ineffectually. “We mean you no harm.”

“Doesn’t look like they’re listening,” Varric said to him as he shot a bolt toward the mage. 

Jon deflected a blow from one the mercenaries, knocking the other’s blade aside before knocking him to the ground with his shoulder and finishing him quickly with his sword to the man's throat. Just as they made it to the apostate mage, after carefully stepping around his bright glowing traps, the mage warped away in the other direction. 

Jon stared in disbelief at the spot the man had been in and turned around to see the mage throwing spells in their direction from a bridge across a shallow pond. Solas cast another protection spell around Jon and their party before they converged on the lone mage. The apostate's own protection spells were quickly worn down by the arrows and bolts loosed by their archers. Cassandra swooped in quickly and cut the young man down before he had a chance to get away a second time. 

“Be ready, there’s more coming our way!” Solas called, gesturing to the opposite side of the Crossroads, and Jon caught sight of the second wave of Templars charging toward them. 

These Templars were armored just as heavily as the others, but some were carrying huge shields that looked to be carved directly from slabs of metal. Jon wondered what the point of them was until he saw how easily they deflected Solas’ magic. Cassandra charged one of them and Jon followed her quickly. Solas, Varric and the others would have an easier time with the other Templars.

It took little time to cut down their opponent with two of them working together. His shield might be useful for blocking spells, but it made him slow. Cassandra was able to distract him well enough while Jon caught the man unawares from the side, knocking the shield from his hands and Cassandra was able to catch him with a slash that cut him from neck across his torso to his hip. 

The two of them looked up to see the last of the Templar's archers fall, and Cassandra sighed heavily, wiping at her brow roughly with her arm. 

“That’s the end of it,” she said severely, looking to the distance where no other opponents could be seen. 

Jon nodded his agreement, breathing heavily as he looked down morosely at all the young men they had cut down. It was different from fighting demons. They were monstrous, there was no doubt that killing them was the right thing to do, and they disappeared quickly after they were defeated. 

In a fight against humans, the feeling of righteousness was muddied. Especially when Jon looked down at a person who couldn’t be older than Jon himself was. There wasn’t anything to be done except help the small folk who were slowly emerging from their shelter put out the fires and to assist with the wounded. 

Jon quickly found Mother Giselle, the only person who could be marked as what Jon was learning to recognize as a Chantry member. It was their bright red and white robes with gold accents that set them apart. 

“Hush dear boy,” he heard her soothe one of the wounded Inquisition soldiers. “Allow them to ease your suffering.”

“Mother Giselle?” Jon said as he approached her, suddenly intensely aware of the blood and dirt smeared onto him in the face of her immaculate attire.

“I am,” she acknowledged, standing up from where she had been kneeling next to the wounded soldier. “And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste.”

Jon held back a sigh, he wasn’t going to address that with the skepticism he currently felt. Another time perhaps. 

“I’m told you asked for me?” was what he said instead. 

She gestured for him to walk with her further away from the wounded, and Jon slowly followed her, keeping pace at her side.

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I’m familiar with those behind it,” she began. “I won’t lie to you, some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine.”

“Some,” she said as she stopped to turn and face him. “Are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…”

“And you don’t stand with the rest of the Chantry?” Jon asked cautiously, wondering what the Chantry Mother was trying to get at and what she wanted from him.

“With no Divine, we are left to our own conscience- and mine tells me this,” she explained patiently, looking directly at him now. “Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“But won’t that just make it worse?” Jon asked honestly wondering how that would work if the remaining clerics were anything like Roderick. 

“Could it be worse than it is?” Mother Giselle asked, looking pointedly at the war-torn village around them.

“Probably, yes,” Jon said plainly, he had seen worse himself.

“Let me put it this way: you needn’t convince them all,” she countered, in a patient way that reminded Jon of Maester Luwin trying to teach the Stark children an important lesson. “You just need some of them to… doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.”

“You make it sound simple,” Jon said.

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope,” she told him. “Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us.”

Jon could say nothing as he stared helplessly into her keen eyes. He felt her words like a physical blow, and the damage was more severe than anything he had received in the recent skirmish. Why did it always come back to this point? Jon seemed ever at the precipice of doom, leading people into the abyss with him. 

“I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering,” she finished, turning away from him. “It is not much but I will do whatever I can.”

She left him to his own thoughts then. Jon clenched and unclenched his jaw, feeling tight and uncomfortable in his own skin. The question ‘why?’ ringing in his head, over and over. He looked down at the faint light shining in his hand. Well, he knew why the Chantry Mother thought of him as a rallying point, but the responsibility felt too familiar. An oppressive weight on his chest that he could not lift no matter how hard he struggled. 

Jon heard a voice call out his name, and he turned to see Varric, Solas, and Cassandra waiting for him some distance away. They seemed to have cleaned up, and Jon was once again was very aware of the muck and blood clinging to his clothes and his skin. 

“What did Mother Giselle tell you?” Cassandra demanded as he approached them. 

Her expression was cross, her lips twisted and brow furrowed, but Jon had the impression from the way she held herself that she was nervous about the outcome of his conversation. 

“She… gave me some advice,” Jon told her, looking to Varric and Solas as well. “She wants me to travel to Val Royeaux to speak with the clerics, convince them I’m not going to kill them all in their sleep.”

Varric snorted and grinned at the imagery, “Well, that certainly is one strategy we haven’t considered yet. Going straight into the hornet’s nest and giving it a few good whacks.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra grunted, looking down her nose at the dwarf with disgust. “If the Mother thinks it is best… I can see the advantage of attempted to sway them to our side... as daunting as the task might seem.”

“Mother Giselle seemed to think it would be worth it if we could get some of them to doubt the current opinions of the Inquisition’s heresy,” Jon said with a shrug. “As long as we don’t get killed on the spot, I don’t see the harm.”

“Death is nothing but a minor consequence for failure then?” Solas said wryly. “Or perhaps some light imprisonment?”

Jon’s lips twitched at the exasperation on Cassandra’s face, although she was more respectful of the elven mage than she was of Varric when they had a difference of opinions. 

“Mother Giselle plans on heading to Haven to help Leliana with the Chantry situation,” Jon told them. “So I suppose we’ll have to sacrifice some Inquisition forces to help escort her.”

“Certainly, that can be arranged,” Cassandra said with an approving nod. “We will have to wait until we are done quelling the unrest to join her in Haven however. We will need build our reputation if we are to make a stand before the Clerics.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Jon said with a nod. “And we had planned to do it anyway.”

“There are sure to be plenty of rifts here as well,” Solas said. “And a variety of other acts to be performed to show our good nature.”

“Heard this one guy asking for someone to pick up some medication for his sick wife,” Varric offered. “Turns out their kid joined a cult in the mountains southwest of here, and he’s the only one who knows how to make it.”

“I…see,” Jon said, feeling taken aback. “Well, the cult in the hills might be something to address as well. For its own sake”

“Undoubtedly,” Solas said. 

“Let us speak to Corporal Vale,” Cassandra interrupted. “He has been here for at least a week now and will have more to say about the situation here.”

“A good plan,” Jon said. “Where can we find him?”

Corporal Vale could be found at the top of hill on the outskirts of the small village, the Inquisition having set up a smaller camp for recruiting. The Corporal seemed to have everything well in hand, all the uninjured soldiers were all occupied whether it was training or labor. Jon had taken the opportunity to clean up before heading off to meet with him and felt better than he had after his conversation with Mother Giselle. 

“You’re with the Inquisition?” the Corporal said with a salute. “Corporal Vale. Thanks for your help.”

Jon simply nodded and asked for a detailed report on the area, and Corporal Vale went above and beyond to deliver it. 

Apostates and Templars were reported to be mad with power, slaughtering small folk and each other senselessly on the West Road. And that was only a part of the problem it seemed. The refugees were poorly quipped, most of them freezing and starving and unable to do anything about it because of the conflict. There were no healers, the real rebel mages were holed up in Redcliffe somewhere to the North, and no one had heard from Master Dennet. Although the general opinion was that he was holed up safe on his farm far away from the fighting.

“Well, that's not a small list of tasks,” Varric commented once they had left the Corporal.

“It must all be dealt with before we leave,” Cassandra insisted. “We cannot possibly leave the people here to their fates.”

“Agreed,” Solas said, looking troubled as he stared into the distance. 

It was the same direction as the Breach, Jon realized, and felt a sense of urgency. All this must be done, but they couldn’t forget the ultimate task ahead of them, closing the tear in the sky. 

“Let’s head to the West Road then and see what can be done,” Jon said grimly. “If we can find the Templar and apostate encampments, perhaps we can scatter them.”

“Let's head out then," Varric said. "It's as good a place to start as any."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up:  
> Apostates, Mages, and Bears! Oh My!
> 
> (Just kidding, fuck those bears, Jon Snow (aka “I”) will be avoiding the bears for as long as possible)
> 
> Side Note though- can I just say that I loved putting the requisition officer to work? I swear, in game they annoyed the shit out of me, seems like they just stood around doing nothing and waited to hound me about collecting drakestone. I'm sure they could be doing something better with their time.
> 
> A lot more delegation of grunt work is going to be happening in the future though. It makes sense in the game to be doing a million fetch quests, but realistically? Not so much. There's plenty of guys lazing about or just doing drills that can go chase rams in the hills. Only plot quests or interesting side quests will be featured here.


End file.
